<l|||li'    X.    'IIIIP    P^  ''ilili'    J^  'Hjil 


■'lllli'  V  .ffllH'  >C  'ililP''  n/^A  x^#'  V  (III 


■li' 


The 
Little  Minister 


BY 


JAMES  MATTHEW  BARRIE 


J.  a  SEARS  &  COMPANY.  INC 

PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK 


T  yV  V  y' V  T  y\T 


"^/xll 


Set  up.  Printed  and  Bound  at  the 
KINGSPORT     PRESS 
KiNGSPORT      Tennessee 
United  States  of  America 


srlF 

YRL 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGB 

I.  The  Love-light i 

II.  Runs  alongside  the  Making  of  a  Minister  5 

III.  The  Night-watchers 9 

IV.  First  Coming  of  the  Egyptian  Woman     .     .  16 

V.    A   Warlike   Chapter,   Culminating  in   the 

Flouting  of  the  Minister  by  the  Woman  .       25 

VI.    In  which  the  Soldiers  Meet  the  Amazons 

of    Thrums        31 

VII.    Has  the  Folly  of  Looking  into  a  Woman's 

Eyes  by  Way  of  Text 39 

VIII.    Three   a.    m. — Monstrous   Audacity  of   the 

Woman 44 

IX.    The    Woman    Considered    in    Absence — Ad- 
ventures of  a  Military  Cloak     ....      51 

X.    First  Sermon  against  Women 55 

XI.    Tells  in  a  Whisper  of  Man's  Fall  during 

THE  Curling  Season 63 

XII.    Tragedy  of  a  Mud  House 69 

XIII.  Second  Coming  of  the  Egyptian  Woman     .      74 

XIV.  The    Minister    Dances    to    the    Woman's 

Piping 80 

XV.    The    Minister    Bewitched — Second    Sermon 

against   Women 86 

XVI.    Continued    Misbehaviour   of   the   Egyptian 

Woman 92 

XVII.    Caddam — Love  Leading  to  a  Rupture       .     .      98 

XVIII.    Circumstances   Leading   to  the   First   Ser- 
mon IN  Approval  of  Women 103 

XIX.    End  of  the  State  of  Indecision       ....     109 
XX.    Night — Margaret — Flashing  of  a  Lantern    1x5 
iii 


IV 


CHAPTER 

XXI. 
XXII. 


XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 

XXVI. 

XXVII. 

XXVIII. 

XXIX. 

XXX. 

XXXI. 

XXXII. 
XXXIII. 
XXXIV. 

XXXV. 

XXXVI. 

XXXVII. 

XXXVIII. 

XXXIX. 

>  XL. 

XLI. 

XLII. 

XLIII. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Lox-ERS 121 

The   New   World,    and   the   Woman    Who 

May  Not  Dwell  Therein 128 

Beginning  of  the  Twenty-four  Hours    .     .  132 

Scene  at  the  Spittal 137 

First  Journey  of  the  Dominie  to  Thrums 

during  the  twenty-four  hours       .     .     .  i4i 

The  Hill  before  Darkness   Fell — Scene  of 

THE  Impending  Catastrophe 145 

Story  of  the  Egyptian 150 

The  Meeting  for  Rain 156 

Various  Bodies  Converging  on  the  Hill      .  161 

Leading    Swiftly    to    the    Appalling    Mar- 
riage      168 

While  the  Ten  o'Clock  Bell  Was  Ringing  171 

The  Great  Rain 176 

The  Glen  at  Break  of  Day 179 

Story  of  the  Dominie 188 

Second  Journey  of  the  Dominie  to  Thrums 

during  the  Twenty-four  Hours       .     .     .  195 

Thrums  during  the  Twenty-four  Hours — 

Defence  of  the  Manse 201 

How    Babbie   Spent   the    Night   of   August 

Fourth 207 

Babbie  and  Margaret — Defence  of  the  Manse 

Continued 212 

Rintoul  and  Babbie — Breakdown  of  the  De- 
fence of  the  Manse 217 

Margaret,  the  Precentor,  and  God  Between  223 

Rain — Mist — The  Jaws 228 

End  of  the  Twenty-four  Hours     ....  235 

Talk  of  a  Little  Maid  Since  Grown  Tall  239 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  LOVE-LIGHT. 

Long  ago,  in  the  days  when  our  caged  blackbirds  never 
saw  a  king's  soldier  without  whistling  impudently,  "Come 
ewer  the  water  to  Charlie,"  a  minister  of  Thrums  was  to  be 
married,  but  something  happened,  and  he  remained  a  bachelor. 
Then,  when  he  was  old,  he  passed  in  our  square  the  lady  who 
was  to  have  been  his  wife,  and  her  hair  was  white,  but  she, 
too,  was  still  unmarried.  The  meeting  had  only  one  wit- 
ness, a  weaver,  and  he  said  solemnly  afterwards,  "They  didna 
speak,  but  they  just  gave  one  another  a  look,  and  I  saw  tlie 
love-light  in  their  een."  No  more  is  remembered  of  these 
two,  no  being  now  living  ever  saw  them,  but  the  poetry 
that  was  in  the  soul  of  a  battered  weaver  makes  them  human 
to  us  for  ever. 

It  is  of  another  minister  I  am  to  tell,  but  only  to  those  who 
know  that  light  when  they  see  it.  I  am  not  bidding  good-bye 
to  many  readers,  for  though  it  is  true  that  some  men,  of  whom 
Lord  Rintoul  was  one,  live  to  an  old  age  without  knowing 
love,  few  of  us  can  have  met  them,  and  of  women  so  incom- 
plete I  never  heard. 

Gavin  Dishart  was  barely  twenty-one  when  he  and  his 
mother  came  to  Thrums,  light-hearted  like  the  traveller  who 
knows  not  what  awaits  him  at  the  bend  of  the  road.  It  was 
the  time  of  year  when  the  ground  is  carpeted  beneath  the 
firs  with  brown  needles,  when  split-nuts  patter  all  day  from 
the  beech,  and  children  lay  yellow  corn  on  the  dominie's  desk 
to  remind  him  that  now  they  are  needed  in  the  fields.  The 
day  was  so  silent  that  carts  could  be  heard  rumbling  a  mile 
away.  All  Thrums  was  out  in  its  wynds  and  closes — a  few 
of  the  weavers  still  in  knee-breeches — to  look  at  the  new 
Auld  Licht  minister.  I  was  there,  too,  the  dominie  of  Glen 
Quharity,  which  is  four  miles  from  Thrums;  and  heavy  was 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


my  heart  as  I  stood  afar  off  so  that  Gavin's  mother  might 
not  have  the  pain  of  seeing  me.  I  was  the  only  one  in  the 
crowd  who  looked  at  her  more  than  at  her  son. 

Eighteen  years  had  passed  since  we  parted.  Already  her 
hair  had  lost  the  hrightness  of  its  youth,  and  she  seemed  to 
me  smaller  and  more  fragile ;  and  the  face  that  I  loved  when 
I  was  a  hobbledehoy,  and  loved  when  I  looked  once  more 
upon  it  in  Thrums,  and  always  shall  love  till  I  die,  was  soft 
and  worn.  Margaret  was  an  old  woman,  and  she  was  only 
forty-three :  and  I  am  the  man  who  made  her  old.  As  Gavin 
put  his  eager,  boyish  face  out  at  the  carriage  window,  many 
saw  that  he  was  holding  her  hand,  but  none  could  be  glad  at 
the  sight  as  the  dominie  was  glad,  looking  on  at  a  happiness 
in  which  he  dared  not  mingle.  Margaret  was  crying  because 
she  was  so  proud  of  her  boy.  Women  do  that.  Poor  sons 
to  be  proud  of,  good  mothers,  but  I  would  not  have  you  dry 
those  tears. 

When  the  little  minister  looked  out  at  the  carriage  window, 
many  of  the  people  drew  back  humbly,  but  a  little  boy  in  a 
red  frock  with  black  spots  pressed  forward  and  offered  him 
a  sticky  parly,  which  Gavin  accepted,  though  not  without 
a  tremor,  for  children  were  more  terrible  to  him  then  than 
bearded  men.  The  boy's  mother,  trying  not  to  look  elated, 
bore  him  away,  but  her  face  said  that  he  was  made  for  life. 
With  this  little  incident  Gavin's  career  in  Thrums  began.  I 
remembered  it  suddenly  the  other  day  when  wading  across 
the  wynd  w'here  it  took  place.  Many  scenes  in  the  little 
minister's  life  come  back  to  me  in  this  way.  The  first  time 
I  ever  thought  of  writing  his  love  story  as  an  old  man's  gift 
to  a  little  maid  since  grown  tall,  was  one  night  while  I 
sat  alone  in  the  schoolhouse ;  on  my  knees  a  fiddle  that  has 
been  my  only  living  companion  since  I  sold  my  hens.  My 
mind  had  drifted  back  to  the  first  time  I  saw  Gavin  and 
the  Egyptian  together,  and  what  set  it  wandering  to  that 
midnight  meeting  was  my  garden  gate  shaking  in  the  wind. 
At  a  gate  on  the  hill  I  had  first  encountered  these  two.  It 
rattled  in  his  hand,  and  I  looked  jip  and  saw  them,  and 
neither  knew  why  I  had  nuch  cause  to  start  at  the  sight. 
Then  the  gate  swung  to.     It  had  just  such  a  click  as  mine. 

These  two  figures  on  the  hill  are  more  real  to  me  than 
things  that  happened  yesterday,  but  I  do  not  know  that  I  can 
make  them  live  to  others.  A  ghost-show  used  to  come  yearly 
to  Thrums  on  the  merry  Muckle  Friday,  in  which  the  illusion 
was  contrived  by  hanging  a  glass  between  the  onlookers  and 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


the  stage.  I  cannot  deny  that  the  comings  and  goings  of  the 
ghost  were  highly  diverting,  yet  the  farmer  of  T'nowhead 
only  laughed  because  he  had  paid  his  money  at  the  hole  in 
the  door  like  the  rest  of  us.  T'nowhead  sat  at  the  end  of 
a  form  where  he  saw  round  the  glass  and  so  saw  no  ghost. 
I  fear  my  public  may  be  in  the  same  predicament.  I  see 
the  little  minister  as  he  was  at  one  and  twenty,  and  the  little 
girl  to  whom  this  story  is  to  belong  sees  him,  though  the 
things  I  have  to  tell  happened  before  she  came  into  the 
world.  But  there  are  reasons  why  she  should  see ;  and  I 
do  not  know  that  I  can  provide  the  glass  for  others.  If  they 
see  round  it,  they  will  neither  laugh  nor  cry  with  Gavin  and 
Babbie. 

When  Gavin  came  to  Thrums  he  was  as  I  am  now,  for  the 
pages  lay  before  him  on  which  he  was  to  write  his  life.  Yet 
he  was  not  quite  as  I  am.  The  life  of  every  man  is  a  diary 
in  which  he  means  to  write  one  story,  and  writes  another ; 
and  his  humblest  hour  is  when  he  compares  the  volume  as  it 
is  with  what  he  vowed  to  make  it.  But  the  biographer  sees 
the  last  chapter  while  he  is  still  at  the  first,  and  I  have  only 
to  write  over  with  ink  what  Gavin  has  written  in  pencil. 

How  often  is  it  a  phantom  woman  who  draws  the  man 
from  the  way  he  meant  to  go?  So  was  man  created,  to 
hunger  for  the  ideal  that  is  above  himself,  until  one  day 
there  is  magic  in  the  air,  and  the  eyes  of  a  girl  rest  upon 
him.  He  does  not  know  that  it  is  he  himself  who  crowned 
her,  and  if  the  girl  is  as  pure  as  he,  their  love  is  the  one 
form  of  idolatry  that  is  not  quite  ignoble.  It  is  the  joining 
of  two  souls  on  their  way  to  God.  But  if  the  woman  be  bad, 
the  test  of  the  man  is  when  he  wakens  from  his  dream.,  The 
nobler  his  ideal,  the  further  will  he  have  been  hurried  down 
the  wrong  way,  for  those  who  only  run  after  little  things  will 
not  go  far.  His  love  may  now  sink  into  passion,  perhaps 
only  to  stain  its  wings  and  rise  again,  perhaps  to  drown. 

Babbie,  what  shall  I  say  of  you  to  make  me  write  these 
things?  I  am  not  your  judge.  Shall  we  not  laugh  at  the 
student  who  chafes  when  between  him  and  his  book  comes 
the  song  of  the  thrushes,  with  whom,  on  the  mad  night  you 
danced  into  Gavin's  life,  you  had  more  in  common  than  with 
Auld  Licht  ministers?  The  gladness  of  living  was  in  your 
step,  your  voice  was  melody,  and  he  was  wondering  what 
love  might  be. 

You  were  the  daughter  of  a  summer  night,  born  where  all 
the  birds  are  free,  and  the  moon  christened  you  with  her 


THE  LITTLE  INIINISTER 


soft  light  to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  man.  Not  our  little  minister 
alone  was  stricken  by  you  into  his  second  childhood.  To 
look  upon  you  was  to  rejoice  that  so  fair  a  thing  could  be; 
to  think  of  you  is  still  to  be  young.  Even  those  who  called 
you  a  little  devil,  of  whom  I  have  been  one,  admitted  that 
in  the  end  you  had  a  soul,  though  not  that  you  had  been 
born  with  one.  They  said  you  stole  it,  and  so  made  a  woman 
of  yourself.  But  again  I  say  I  am  not  your  judge,  and  when 
I  picture  you  as  Gavin  saw  you  first,  a  bare-legged  witch 
dancing  up  Windyghoul,  rowan  berries  in  your  black  hair, 
and  on  your  finger  a  jewel  the  little  minister  could  not  have 
bought  with  five  years  of  toil,  the  shadows  on  my  pages  lift, 
and  I  cannot  wonder  that  Gavin  loved  you. 

Often  I  say  to  myself  that  this  is  to  be  Gavin's  story,  not 
mine.  Yet  must  it  be  mine,  too,  in  a  manner,  and  of  myself 
I  shall  sometimes  have  to  speak;  not  willingly,  for  it  is  time 
my  little  tragedy  had  died  of  old  age.  I  have  kept  it  to 
myself  so  long  that  now  I  would  stand  at  its  grave  alone.  It 
is  true  that  when  I  heard  who  was  to  be  the  new  minister  I 
hoped  for  a  day  that  the  life  broken  in  Harvie  might  be 
mended  in  Thrums,  but  two  minutes'  talk  with  Gavin  showed 
me  that  Margaret  had  kept  from  him  the  secret  which  was 
hers  and  mine,  and  so  knocked  the  bottom  out  of  my  vain 
hopes.  I  did  not  blame  her  then,  nor  do  I  blame  her  now,  nor 
shall  any  one  who  blames  her  ever  be  called  friend  by  me; 
but  it  was  bitter  to  look  at  the  white  manse  among  the  trees 
and  know  that  I  must  never  enter  it.  For  Margaret's  sake 
I  had  to  keep  aloof,  yet  this  new  trial  came  upon  me  like 
our  parting  at  Harvie.  I  thought  that  in  those  eighteen  years 
my  passions  had  burned  like  a  ship  till  they  sank,  but  I  suf- 
fered again  as  on  that  awful  night  w^hen  Adam  Dishart 
came  back,  nearly  killing  Margaret  and  tearing  up  all  my 
ambitions  by  the  root  in  a  single  hour.  I  waited  in  Thrums 
until  I  had  looked  again  on  Margaret,  who  thought  me  dead, 
and  Gavin,  who  had  never  heard  of  me,  and  then  I  trudged 
back  to  the  schoolhouse.  Something  I  heard  of  them  from 
time  to  time  during  the  winter, — for  in  the  gossip  of  Thrums 
I  was  well  posted, — but  much  of  what  is  to  be  told  here  I 
only  learned  afterwards  from  those  who  knew  it  best. 
Gavin  heard  of  me  at  times  as  the  dominie  in  the  glen  who 
had  ceased  to  attend  the  Auld  Licht  kirk,  and  Margaret  did 
not  even  hear  of  me.    It  was  all  I  could  do  for  them. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


CHAPTER  II. 

RUNS  ALONGSIDE  THE   MAKING   OF   A   MINISTER. 

On  the  east  coast  of  Scotland,  hidden,  as  if  in  a  quarry, 
at  the  foot  of  cliffs  that  may  one  day  fall  forward,  is  a 
village  called  Harvie.  So  has  it  shrunk  since  the  day  when 
I  sulked  from  it  that  I  hear  of  a  traveller's  asking  lately 
at  one  of  its  doors  how  far  he  was  from  a  village ;  yet 
Harvie  throve  once  and  was  celebrated  even  in  distant 
Thrums  for  its  fish.  Most  of  our  weavers  would  have 
thought  it  as  unnatural  not  to  buy  harvies  in  the  square  on 
the  Muckle  Friday,  as  to  let  Saturday  night  pass  without 
laying  in  a  sufficient  stock  of  halfpennies  to  go  round  the 
family  twice. 

Gavin  was  born  in  Harvie,  but  left  it  at  such  an  early  age 
that  he  could  only  recall  thatched  houses  with  nets  drying 
on  the  roofs,  and  a  sandy  shore  in  which  coarse  grass  grew. 
In  the  picture  he  could  not  pick  out  the  house  of  his  birth, 
though  he  might  have  been  able  to  go  to  it  had  he  ever 
returned  to  the  village.  Soon  he  learned  that  his  mother  did 
not  care  to  speak  of  Harvie,  and  perhaps  he  thought  that 
she  had  forgotten  it,  too,  all  save  one  scene  to  which  his 
memory  still  guided  him.  When  his  mind  wandered  to  Har- 
vie, Gavin  saw  the  door  of  his  home  open  and  a  fisherman 
enter,  who  scratched  his  head  and  then  said,  "Your  man's 
drowned,  missis."  Gavin  seemed  to  see  many  women  cry- 
ing, and  his  mother  staring  at  them  with  a  face  suddenly 
painted  white,  and  next  to  hear  a  voice  that  was  his  own 
saying,  "Never  mind,  mother;  I'll  be  a  man  to  you  now, 
and  I'll  need  breeks  for  the  burial."  But  Adam  required 
no  funeral,  for  his  body  lay  deep  in  the  sea. 

Gavin  thought  that  this  was  the  tragedy  of  his  mother's 
life,  and  the  most  memorable  event  of  his  own  childhood. 
But  it  was  neither.  When  Margaret,  even  after  she  came 
to  Thrums,  thought  of  Harvie.  it  was  not  at  Adam's  death 
she  shuddered,  but  at  the  recollection  of  me. 

It  would  ill  become  me  to  take  a  late  revenge  on  Adam 
Dishart  now  by  saying  what  is  not  true  of  him.  Though 
he  died  a  fisherman,  he  was  a  sailor  for  a  great  part  of  his 
life,  and  doubtless  his  recklessness  was  washed  into  him 
on  the  high  seas,  where  in  his  time  men  made  a  crony  of 
death,  and  drank  merrily  over  dodging  it  for  another  night. 


THE  LITTLE  IMINISTER 


To  me  his  roars  of  laughter  without  cause  were  as  re- 
pellent as  a  boy's  drum;  yet  many  faces  that  were  long  in 
my  company  brightened  at  his  coming,  and  women,  with 
whom,  despite  my  yearning,  I  was  in  no  wise  a  favourite, 
ran  to  their  doors  to  listen  to  him  as  readily  as  to  the  bell- 
man. Children  scurried  from  him  if  his  mood  was  savage, 
but  to  him  at  all  other  times,  while  me  they  merely  disre- 
garded. There  was  always  a  smell  of  the  sea  about  him. 
He  had  a  rolling  gait,  unless  he  was  drunk,  when  he  walked 
very  straight,  and  before  both  sexes  he  boasted  that  any 
woman  would  take  him  for  his  beard  alone. 

Adam  was  drowned  on  Gavin's  fourth  birthday,  a  year 
after  I  had  to  leave  Harvie.  He  was  blown  off  his  smack 
in  a  storm,  and  could  not  reach  the  rope  his  partner  flung 
him.    "It's  no  go,  lad,"  he  shouted;  "so  long,  Jim,"  and  sank. 

A  month  afterwards  Margaret  sold  her  share  in  the 
smack,  which  was  all  Adam  left  her,  and  the  furniture  of 
the  house  was  roup'ed.  She  took  Gavin  to  Glasgow,  where 
her  only  brother  needed  a  housekeeper,  and  there  mother 
and  son  remained  until  Gavin  got  his  call  to  Thrums.  Dur- 
ing those  seventeen  years  I  lost  knowledge  of  them  as  com- 
pletely as  Margaret  had  lost  knowledge  of  me.  On  hearing 
of  Adam's  death  I  went  back  to  Harvie  to  try  to  trace 
her,  but  she  had  feared  this,  and  so  told  no  one  where  she 
was  going. 

According  to  jMargaret,  Gavin's  genius  showed  itself  while 
he  was  still  a  child.  He  was  born  with  a  brow  whose  no- 
bility impressed  her  from  the  first.  It  was  a  minister's 
brow,  and  though  Margaret  herself  was  no  scholar,  being  as 
slow  to  read  as  she  was  quick  at  turning  bannocks  on  the 
girdle,  she  decided,  M'hen  his  age  was  still  counted  by  months, 
that  the  ministry  had  need  of  him. 

Margaret's  brother  died,  but  she  remained  in  his  single 
room,  and,  ever  with  a  picture  of  her  son  in  a  pulpit  to 
repay  her,  contrived  to  keep  Gavin  at  school.  Everything 
a  woman's  fingers  can  do  Margaret's  did  better  than  most, 
and  among  the  wealthy  people  who  employed  her — would 
that  I  could  have  the  teaching  of  the  sons  of  such  as  were 
good  to  her  in  those  hard  days ! — her  gentle  manner  was 
spoken  of.  For  though  Margaret  had  no  schooling,  she  was 
a  lady  at  heart,  moving  and  almost  speaking  as  one  even, 
in  Harvie,  where  they  did  not  perhaps  like  her  the  better 
for  it. 

At  six  Gavin  hit  another  boy  hard  for  belonging  to  the 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


Established  Church,  and  at  seven  he  could  not  lose  him- 
self in  the  Shorter  Catechism.  His  mother  expounded  the 
Scriptures  to  him  till  he  was  eight,  when  he  began  to  ex- 
pound them  to  her.  By  this  time  he  was  studying  the  prac- 
tical work  of  the  pulpit  as  enthusiastically  as  ever  medical 
student  cut  off  a  leg.  From  a  front  pew  in  the  gallery  Gavin 
watched  the  minister's  every  movement,  noting  that  the  first 
thing  to  do  on  ascending  the  pulpit  is  to  cover  your  face  with 
your  hands,  as  if  the  exalted  position  affected  ,you  like  a 
strong  light,  and  the  second  to  move  the  big  Bible  slightly,  to 
show  that  the  kirk  officer,  not  having  had  a  university  educa- 
tion, could  not  be  expected  to  know  the  very  spot  on  which  it 
ought  to  lie.  It  was  noteworthy  that  the  first  prayer  lasted 
longer  than  all  the  others,  and  that  to  read  the  intimations 
about  the  Bible-class  and  the  collection  elsewhere  than  imme- 
diately before  the  last  Psalm  would  have  been  as  sacrilegious 
as  to  insert  the  dedication  to  King  James  at  the  end  of  Rev- 
elation. Sitting  under  a  minister  justly  honoured  in  his  day, 
the  boy  was  often  some  words  in  advance  of  him,  not  vain- 
glorious of  his  memory,  but  fervent,  eager,  and  regarding  the 
preacher  as  hardly  less  sacred  than  the  Book.  Gavin  was 
encouraged  by  his  frightened  yet  admiring  mother  to  saw  the 
air  from  their  pew  as  the  minister  sawed  it  in  the  pulpit,  and 
two  benedictions  were  pronounced  twice  a  Sabbath  in  that 
church,  in  the  same  words,  the  same  manner,  and  simultane- 
ously. 

When  Gavin  was  twelve  he  went  to  the  university,  and  also 
got  a  place  in  a  shop  as  errand  boy.  He  used  to  run  through 
the  streets  between  his  work  and  his  classes.  Potatoes  and 
salt  fish,  which  could  then  be  got  at  two  pence  the  pound  if 
bought  by  the  half  hundredweight,  were  his  food.  There  was 
not  always  a  good  meal  for  two,  yet  when  Gavin  reached 
home  at  night  there  was  generally  something  ready  for  him, 
and  Margaret  had  supped  "hours  ago."  Gavin's  hunger  urged 
him  to  fall  to,  but  his  love  for  his  mother  made  him  watchful. 

"What  did  you  have  yourself,  mother?"  he  would  demand, 
suspiciously. 

"Oh,  I  had  a  fine  supper,  I  assure  you," 

"What  had  you?" 

"I  had  potatoes,  for  one  thing." 

"And  dripping?" 

"You  may  be  sure." 

"Mother,  you're  cheating  me.  The  dripping  hasn't  been 
touched  since  yesterday." 


8  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"I  dinna — don't — care  for  dripping — no  much." 

Then  would  Gavin  stride  the  room  fiercely,  a  queer  little 
6gure. 

"Do  you  think  I'll  stand  this,  mother?  Will  I  let  myself 
be  pampered  with  dripping  and  every  delicacy  while  you 
starve  ?" 

"Gavin,  I  really  dinna  care  for  dripping." 

"Then  I'll  give  up  my  classes,  and  we  can  have  butter." 

"I  assure  you  I'm  no  hungry.  It's  different  wi'  a  growing 
laddie." 

"I'm  not  a  growing  laddie,"  Gavin  would  say,  bitterly; 
"but,  mother,  I  warn  you  that  not  another  bite  passes  my 
throat  till  I  sec  you  eating,  too." 

So  Margaret  had  to  take  her  seat  at  the  table,  and  when 
she  said  "I  can  eat  no  more,"  Gavin  retorted  sternly,  "Nor 
will  I,  for  fine  I  see  through  you." 

To  Margaret  it  was  happiness  to  sit  through  the  long  eve- 
nings sewing,  and  look  over  her  work  at  Gavin  as  he  read 
or  wrote  or  recited  to  himself  the  learning  of  the  schools. 
But  she  coughed  every  time  the  weather  changed,  and  then 
Gavin  would  start. 

"You  must  go  to  your  bed,  mother,"  he  would  say,  tearing 
himself  from  his  books ;  or  he  would  sit  beside  her  and  talk 
of  the  dream  that  was  common  to  both, — a  dream  of  a  manse 
where  Margaret  was  mistress  and  Gavin  was  called  the  min- 
ister. Every  night  Gavin  was  at  his  mother's  bedside  to  wind 
her  shawl  round  her  feet,  and  while  he  did  it  Margaret 
smiled. 

"Mother,  this  is  the  chaff  pillow  you've  taken  out  of  my 
bed,  and  given  me  your  feather  one." 

"Gavin,  you  needna  change  them.  I  winna  have  the  feather 
pillow." 

"Do  you  dare  to  think  I'll  let  you  sleep  on  chaff?  Put  up 
your  head.     Now,  is  that  soft?" 

"It's  fine.  I  dinna  deny  but  what  I  sleep  better  on  feathers. 
Do  you  mind.  Gavin,  you  bought  this  pillow  for  me  the  mo- 
ment you  got  your  bursary  money?" 

So  the  years  passed,  an  1  soon  Gavin  would  be  a  minister. 
He  had  now  sermons  to  prepare,  and  every  one  of  them  was 
first  preached  to  Margaret.  How  solemn  was  his  voice,  how 
his  eyes  flashed,  how  stern  were  his  admonitions. 

Not  long  before  Gavin  preached  for  our  kirk  and  got  his 
rail,  a  great  event  took  place  in  the  little  room  at  Glasgow. 
T'he  student  appeared  for  tlip  first  time  before  his  mother  in 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


his  ministerial  clothes.  He  wore  the  black  silk  hat,  that  was 
destined  to  become  a  terror  to  evil-doers  in  Thrums,  and  I 
dare  say  he  was  rather  puffed  up  about  himself  that  day.  You 
would  probably  have  smiled  at  him. 

"It's  a  pity  I'm  so  little,  mother,"  he  said  with  a  sigh. 

"You're  no  what  I  would  call  a  particularly  long  man," 
Margaret  said,  "but  you're  just  the  height  1  like." 

Then  Gavin  went  out  in  his  grandeur,  and  Margaret  cried 
for  an  hour.  She  was  thinking  of  me  as  well  as  of  Gavin, 
and,  as  it  happens,  I  know  that  I  was  thinking  at  the  same 
time  of  her. 

Busy  days  followed  the  call  to  Thrums,  and  Gavin  had 
difficulty  in  forcing  himself  to  his  sermons  when  there  was 
always  something  more  to  tell  his  mother  about  the  weaving 
town  they  were  going  to,  or  about  the  manse  or  the  furni- 
ture that  had  been  transferred  to  him  by  the  retiring  min- 
ister. The  little  room  which  had  become  so  familiar  that  it 
seemed  one  of  a  family  party  of  three  had  to  be  stripped,  and 
many  of  its  contents  were  sold. 

"Gavin,  Gavin,"  Margaret  said  many  times  in  those  last 
days  at  Glasgow,  "to  think  it  has  all  come  true!" 

"Let  the  last  word  you  say  in  the  house  be  a  prayer  of 
thankfulness,"  she  whispered  to  him  when  they  were  taking 
a  final  glance  at  the  old  home. 

In  the  bare  room  they  called  the  house,  the  little  minister 
and  his  mother  went  on  their  knees,  but,  as  it  chanced,  their 
last  word  there  was  not  addressed  to  God. 

"Gavin,"  Margaret  whispered  as  he  took  her  arm,  "do  you 
think  this  bonnet  sets  me?" 


CHAPTER  in. 

THE   NIGHT-WATCHERS. 

What  first  struck  Margaret  in  Thrums  was  the  smell  of 
the  caddis.  The  town  smells  of  caddis  no  longer,  but  whiffs 
of  it  may  be  got  even  now  as  one  passes  the  houses  of  the 
old,  where  the  lay  still  swings  at  little  windows  like  a  great 
ghost  pendulum.  To  me  it  is  a  homely  smell,  which  I  draw 
in  with  a  great  breath,  but  it  was  as  strange  to  Margaret 
as  the  weavers  themselves,  who,  in  their  coloured  nightcaps 
and  corduroys  streaked  with  threads,  gazed  at  her  and  Gavin. 


10  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

The  little  minister  was  trying  to  look  severe  and  old,  but 
twenty-one  was  in  his  eye. 

"Look,  mother,  at  that  white  house  with  the  green  roof. 
That  is  the  manse." 

When  Margaret  entered  the  manse  on  Gavin's  arm,  it 
was  a  whitewashed  house  of  five  rooms,  with  a  garret  in  which 
the  minister  could  sleep  if  he  had  guests,  as  during  the  Fast 
week.  It  stood  with  its  garden  within  high  walls,  and  the 
roof  facing  southward  was  carpeted  with  moss  that  shone 
in  the  sun  in  a  dozen  shades  of  green  and  yellow.  Three 
firs  guarded  the  house  from  west  winds,  but  blasts  from  the 
north  often  tore  down  the  steep  fields  and  skirled  through  the 
manse,  banging  all  its  doors  at  once.  A  beech,  growing  on  the 
east  side,  leant  over  the  roof  as  if  to  gossip  with  the  well 
in  the  courtyard.  The  garden  was  to  the  south,  and  was 
overfull  of  gooseberry  and  currant  bushes.  It  contained  a 
summer  seat  where  strange  things  were  soon  to  happen. 

He  in  whose  ways  Gavin  was  to  attempt  the  heavy  task 
of  walking  had  been  a  widower  three  months  after  his  mar- 
riage, a  man  narrow  when  he  came  to  Thrums,  but  so  large- 
hearted  when  he  left  it  that  I,  who  know  there  is  good  in 
all  the  world  because  of  the  lovable  souls  I  have  met  in  this 
corner  of  it,  yet  cannot  hope  that  many  are  as  near  to  God 
as  he.  The  most  gladsome  thing  in  the  world  is  that  few 
of  us  fall  very  low;  the  saddest  that,  with  such  capabilities, 
we  seldom  rise  high.  Of  those  who  stand  perceptibly  above 
their  fellows  I  have  known  very  few;  only  Mr.  Carfrae  and 
two  or  three  women. 

Gavin  only  saw  a  very  frail  old  minister  who  shook  as  he 
walked,  as  if  his  feet  were  striking  against  stones.  He  was 
to  depart  on  the  morrow  to  the  place  of  his  birth,  but  he  came 
to  the  manse  to  wish  his  successor  Godspeed.  Strangers  were 
so  formidable  to  Margaret  that  she  only  saw  him  from  her 
window. 

"May  you  never  lose  sight  of  God,  Mr.  Dishart,"  the  old 
man  said  in  the  parlour.  Then  he  added,  as  if  he  had  asked 
too  much:  "May  you  never  turn  from  Him  as  I  often  did 
when  I  was  a  lad  like  yci." 

As  this  aged  minister,  with  the  beautiful  face  that  God 
gives  to  all  who  love  Him  and  follow  His  commandments, 
spoke  of  his  youth,  He  looked  wistfully  round  the  faded 
parlour. 

"It  is  like  a  dream."  he  said.  "The  first  time  I  entered 
this  room  the  thought  oassed  through  me  that  I  would  cut 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  11 

down  that  cherry-tree,  because  it  kept  out  the  light,  but,  you 
see,  it  outlives  me.  I  grew  old  while  looking  for  the  axe. 
Only  yesterday  I  was  the  young  minister,  Mr.  Dishart,  and 
to-morrow  you  will  be  the  old  one,  bidding  good-bye  to  your 
successor." 

His  eyes  came  back  to  Gavin's  eager  face. 

"You  are  very  young,  Mr.  Dishart?" 

"Nearly  twenty-one." 

"Twenty-one !  Ah,  my  dear  sir,  you  do  not  know  how  pa- 
thetic that  sounds  to  me.  Twenty-one !  We  are  children 
for  the  second  time  at  twenty-one,  and  again  when  we  are 
gray  and  put  all  our  burden  on  the  Lord.  The  young  talk 
generously  of  relieving  the  old  of  their  burdens,  but  the 
anxious  heart  is  to  the  old  when  they  see  a  load  on  the  back 
of  the  young.  Let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Dishart,  that  I  would 
condone  many  things  in  one  and  twenty  now  that  I  dealt 
hardly  with  at  middle  age.  God  Himself,  I  think,  is  very 
willing  to  give  one  and  twenty  a  second  chance." 

"I  am  afraid,"  Gavin  said,  anxiously,  "that  I  look  even 
younger." 

"I  think,"  Mr.  Carfrae  answered,  smiling,  "that  your  heart 
is  as  fresh  as  your  face ;  and  that  is  well.  The  useless  men 
are  those  who  never  change  with  the  years.  Many  views 
that  I  held  to  in  my  youth  and  long  afterwards  are  a  pain 
to  me  now,  and  I  am  carrying  away  from  Thrums  memories 
of  errors  into  which  I  fell  at  every  stage  of  my  ministry. 
When  you  are  older  you  will  know  that  life  is  a  long  lesson 
in  humility." 

He  paused. 

"I  hope,"  he  said,  nervously,  "that  you  don't  sing  the  Para- 
phrases?" 

Mr.  Carfrae  had  not  grown  out  of  all  his  prejudices,  you 
see ;  indeed,  if  Gavin  had  been  less  bigoted  than  he  on  this 
question  they  might  have  parted  stiffly.  The  old  minister 
would  rather  have  remained  to  die  in  his  pulpit  than  surrender 
it  to  one  who  read  his  sermons.  Others  may  blame  him  for 
this,  but  I  must  say  here  plainly  that  I  never  hear  a  minister 
reading  without  wishing  to  send  him  back  to  college. 

"I  cannot  deny,"  Mr.  Carfrae  said,  "that  I  broke  down 
more  than  once  to-day.  This  forenoon  I  was  in  Tillyloss, 
for  the  last  time,  and  it  so  happens  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
house  in  it  in  which  I  have  not  had  a  marriage  or  prayed 
over  a  coffin.  Ah,  sir,  these  are  the  scenes  that  make  the  min- 
ister more  than  all  his  sermons.     You  must  join  the  family, 


12  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

Mr.  Dishart,  or  you  are  only  a  minister  once  a  week.  And 
remember  this,  if  your  call  is  from  above,  it  is  a  call  to  stay. 
Many  such  partings  in  a  lifetime  as  I  have  had  to-day  would 
be  too  heartrending." 

"And  yet,"  Gavin  said,  hesitatingly,  "they  told  me  in  Glas- 
gow that  I  had  received  a  call  from  the  mouth  of  hell." 

"Those  were  cruel  words,  but  they  only  mean  that  people 
who  are  seldom  more  than  a  day's  work  in  advance  of  want 
sometimes  rise  in  arms  for  food.  Our  weavers  are  passion- 
ately religious,  and  so  independent  that  they  dare  any  one 
to  help  them,  but  if  their  wages  were  lessened  they  could 
not  live.  And  so  at  talk  of  reduction  they  catch  fire.  Change 
of  any  kind  alarms  them,  and  though  they  call  themselves 
Whigs,  they  rose  a  few  years  ago  over  the  paving  of  the 
streets  and  stoned  the  workmen,  who  were  strangers,  out 
of  the  town. 

"And  though  you  may  have  thought  the  place  quiet  to-day, 
Mr.  Dishart,  there  was  an  ugly  outbreak  only  two  months  ago, 
when  the  weavers  turned  on  the  manufacturers  for  reducing 
the  price  of  the  web,  made  a  bonfire  of  some  of  their  doors, 
and  terrified  one  of  them  into  leaving  Thrums.  Under  the 
command  of  some  Chartists,  the  people  next  paraded  the 
streets  to  the  music  of  fife  and  drum,  and  six  policemen 
who  drove  up  from  Tilliedrum  in  a  light  cart  were  sent  back 
tied  to  the  seats." 

"No  one  has  been  punished?" 

"Not  yet,  but  nearly  two  years  ago  there  was  a  similar 
riot,  and  the  sheriff  took  no  action  for  months.  Then  one 
night  the  square  suddenly  filled  with  soldiers,  and  the  ring- 
leaders were  seized  in  their  beds.  Mr.  Dishart,  the  people 
are  determined  not  to  be  caught  in  that  way  again,  and  ever 
since  the  rising  a  watch  has  been  kept  by  night  on  every 
road  that  leads  to  Thrums.  The  signal  that  the  soldiers 
are  coming  is  to  be  the  blowing  of  a  horn.  If  you  ever  hear 
that  horn,  I  implore  you  to  hasten  to  the  square." 

"The  weavers  would  not  fight?" 

"You  do  not  know  how  the  Chartists  have  fired  this  part  of 
the  country.  One  misty  Jay,  a  week  ago,  I  was  on  the  hill ; 
I  thought  I  had  it  to  myself,  when  suddenly  I  heard  a  voice 
cry  sharply,  'Shoulder  anns.'  I  could  see  no  one,  and  after 
a  moment  I  put  it  down  to  a  freak  of  the  wind.  Then  all 
at  once  the  mist  before  me  blackened,  and  a  body  of  men 
seemed  to  grow  out  of  it.  They  were  not  shadows ;  they  were 
Thrums  weavers  drilling,  with  pikes  in  their  hands. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  13 

"They  broke  up,"  Mr,  Carfrae  continued,  after  a  pause,  "at 
my  entreaty,  but  they  have  met  again  since  then." 

"And  there  were  Auld  Lichts  among  them?"  Gavin  asked. 
"I  should  have  thought  they  would  be  frightened  at  our 
precentor,  Lang  Tammas,  who  seems  to  watch  for  back- 
sliding in  the  congregation  as  if  he  had  pleasure  in  discover- 
ing it." 

Gavin  spoke  with  feeling,  for  the  precentor  had  already 
put  him  through  his  catechism,  and  it  was  a  stiff  ordeal. 

"The  precentor !"  said  Mr.  Carfrae.  "Why,  he  was  one 
of  them." 

The  old  minister,  once  so  brave  a  figure,  tottered  as  he 
rose  to  go,  and  reeled  in  a  dizziness  until  he  had  walked 
a  few  paces.  Gavin  went  with  him  to  the  foot  of  the  manse 
road ;  without  his  hat,  as  all  Thrums  knew  before  bedtime. 

"I  begin,"  Gavin  said,  as  they  were  parting,  "where  you 
leave  off,  and  my  prayer  is  that  I  may  walk  in  your  ways." 

"Ah,  Mr.  Dishart,"  the  white-haired  minister  said,  with  a 
sigh,  "the  world  does  not  progress  so  quickly  as  a  man 
grows  old.     You  only  begin  where  I  began." 

He  left  Gavin,  and  then,  as  if  the  little  minister's  last 
words  had  hurt  him,  turned  and  solemnly  pointed  his  staff 
upward.  Such  men  are  the  strong  nails  that  keep  the  world 
together. 

The  twenty-one-years-old  minister  returned  to  the  manse 
somewhat  sadly,  but  when  he  saw  his  mother  at  the  window 
of  her  bedroom,  his  heart  leapt  at  the  thought  that  she  was 
with  him  and  he  had  eighty  pounds  a  year.  Gaily  he  waved 
both  his  hands  to  her,  and  she  answered  with  a  smile,  and 
then,  in  his  boyishness,  he  jumped  over  a  gooseberry  bush. 
Immediately  afterwards  he  reddened  and  tried  to  look  ven- 
erable, for  while  in  the  air  he  had  caught  sight  of  two  women 
and  a  man  watching  him  from  the  dyke.  He  walked  severely 
to  the  door,  and,  again  forgetting  himself,  was  bounding  up- 
stairs to  Margaret,  when  Jean,  the  servant,  stood  scandalised 
in  his  way. 

"I  don't  think  she  caught  me,"  was  Gavin's  reflection,  and 
"The  Lord  preserve's  !"  was  Jean's. 

Gavin  found  his  mother  wondering  how  one  should  set 
about  getting  a  cup  of  tea  in  a  house  that  had  a  servant  in 
it.  He  boldly  rang  the  bell,  and  the  willing  Jean  answered 
it  so  promptly  (in  a  rush  and  jump)  that  Margaret  was  as 
much  startled  as  Aladdin  the  first  time  he  rubbed  his  lamp. 

"There's  a  curran  folk  at  the  back  door,"  Jean  announced 


14  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

later,  "and  their  respects  to  you,  and  would  you  gie  them 
some  water  out  o'  the  well  ?  It  has  been  a  drouth  this  aucht 
days,  and  the  pumps  is  locked.  Na,"  she  said,  as  Gavin  made 
a  too  liberal  offer,  "that  would  toom  the  well,  and  there's 
j imply  enough  for  oursels.  I  should  tell  you,  too,  that  three 
o'  them  is  no  Auld  Lichts." 

"Let  that  make  no  difference,"  Gavin  said,  grandly,  but 
Jean  changed  his  message  to:  "A  bowlful  apiece  to  Auld 
Lichts;  all  other  denominations  one  cupful." 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Snecky  Hobart,  letting  down  the  bucket, 
"and  we'll  include  atheists  among  other  denominations."  The 
conversation  came  to  Gavin  and  Margaret  through  the  kitchen 
doorway. 

"Dinna  class  Jo  Cruickshanks  wi'  me,"  said  Sam'l  Lang- 
lands  the  U.  P. 

"Na,  na,"  said  Cruickshanks  the  atheist,  "I'm  ower  in- 
dependent to  be  religious.  I  dinna  gang  to  the  kirk  to  cry, 
'Oh,  Lord,  gie,  gie,  gie.'  " 

"Take  tent  o'  yoursel',  my  man,"  said  Lang  Tammas, 
sternly,  "or  you'll  soon  be  whaur  you  would  neifer  the  warld 
for  a  cup  o'  that  cauld  water." 

"Maybe  you've  ower  keen  an  interest  in  the  devil,  Tam- 
mas,"  retorted  the  atheist;  "but,  ony  way,  if  it's  heaven  for 
climate,  it's  hell  for  company." 

"Lads,"  said  Snecky,  sitting  down  on  the  bucket,  "we'll 
send  Mr.  Dishart  to  Jo.  He'll  make  another  Rob  Dow  o' 
him." 

"Speak  mair  reverently  o'  your  minister,"  said  the  pre- 
centor.    "He  has  the  gift." 

"I  hinna  naturally  your  solemn  rasping  word,  Tammas, 
but  in  the  heart  I  speak  in  all  reverence.  Lads,  the  minister 
has  a  word !  I  tell  you  he  prays  near  like  one  giving  or- 
ders." 

"Ay,  he  can  pray  for  a  black  frost  as  if  it  was  ane  o'  the 
Royal  Family.  I  ken  his  prayers,  'O  Lord,  let  it  baud  for 
anither  day,  and  keep  the  snaw  awa'.'  Will  you  pretend, 
Jeames,  that  Mr.  Duthie  could  make  onything  o'  Rob  Dow?" 

"I  admit  that  Rob's  iwakening  was  an  extraordinary 
thing,  and  sufficient  to  gie  Mr.  Dishart  a  name.  But  Mr. 
Carfrae  was  baffled  wi'  Rob,  too." 

"Jeames,  if  you  had  been  in  our  kirk  that  day  Mr.  Dis- 
hart i)reached  for't  you  would  be  wearying  the  now  for 
Sabbath,  to  be  back  in't  again.  As  you  ken.  that  wicked  man 
there,  Jo  Cruickshanks,  got  Rob  Dow,  drucken,  cursing-,  poach- 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  15 

ing  Rob  Dow,  to  come  to  the  kirk  to  annoy  the  minister. 
Ay,  he  hadna  been  at  that  work  for  ten  minutes  when  Mr. 
Dishart  stopped  in  his  first  prayer  and  ga'e  Rob  a  look.  I 
couldna  see  the  look,  being  in  the  precentor's  box,  but  as 
sure  as  death  I  felt  it  boring  through  me.  Rob  is  hard 
wood,  though,  and  soon  he  was  at  his  tricks  again.  Weel, 
the  minister  stopped  a  second  time  in  the  sermon,  and  so 
awful  was  the  silence  that  a  heap  o'  the  congregation  couldna 
keep  their  seats.  I  heard  Rob  breathing  quick  and  strong. 
Mr.  Dishart  had  his  arm  pointed  at  him  a'  this  time,  and  at 
last  he  says,  sternly  'Come  forward.'  Listen,  Joseph  Cruick- 
shanks,  and  tremble.  Rob  gripped  the  board  to  keep  himsel' 
frae  obeying,  and  again  Mr.  Dishart  says,  'Come  forward,' 
and  syne  Rob  rose,  shaking,  and  tottered  to  the  pulpit  stair 
like  a  man  suddenly  shot  into  the  Day  of  Judgment.  'You 
hulking  man  of  sin,'  cries  Mr.  Dishart,  not  a  tick  fleid,  though 
Rob's  as  big  as  three  o'  him,  'sit  down  on  the  stair  and  attend 
to  me,  or  I'll  step  doun  frae  the  pulpit  and  run  you  out  of  the 
house  of  God.'  " 

"And  since  that  day,"  said  Hobart,  "Rob  has  worshipped 
Mr.  Dishart  as  a  man  that  has  stepped  out  o'  the  Bible. 
When  the  carriage  passed  this  day  we  was  discussing  the 
minister,  and  Sam'l  Dickie  wasna  sure  but  what  Mr.  Dishart 
wore  his  hat  rather  far  back  on  his  head.  You  should  have 
seen  Rob.  'My  certie,'  he  roars,  'there's  the  shine  frae 
Heaven  on  that  little  minister's  face,  and  them  as  says  there's 
no  has  me  to  f  echt.' " 

"Ay,  weel,"  said  the  U.  P.,  rising,  "we'll  see  how  Rob 
wears — and  how  your  minister  wears,  too.  I  wouldna  like 
to  sit  in  a  kirk  whaur  they  daurna  sing  a  paraphrase." 

"The  Psalms  of  David,"  retorted  Whamond,  "mount 
straight  to  heaven,  but  your  paraphrases  sticks  to  the  ceiling 
o'  the  kirk." 

"You're  a  bigoted  set,  Tammas  Whamond,  but  I  tell  you 
this,  and  it's  my  last  words  to  you  the  nicht,  the  day'll 
come  when  you'll  hae  Mr.  Duthie,  ay,  and  even  the  U.  P. 
minister,  preaching  in  the  Auld  Licht  kirk." 

"And  let  this  be  my  last  words  to  you,"  replied  the  pre- 
centor, furiously;  "that  rather  than  see  a  U.  P.  preaching  in 
the  Auld  Licht  kirk  I  would  burn  in  hell  fire  for  ever !" 

This  gossip  increased  Gavin's  knowledge  of  the  grim  men 
with  whom  he  had  now  to  deal.  But  as  he  sat  beside  Mar- 
garet after  she  had  gone  to  bed.  their  talk  was  pleasant. 

"You    remember,    mother,"    Gavin    said,    "how    I    almos 


16  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


prayed  for  the  manse  that  was  to  give  you  an  egg  every 
morning.    I  have  been  telling  Jean  never  to  forget  the  egg." 

"Ah,  Gavin,  things  have  come  about  so  much  as  we  wanted 
that  I'm  a  kind  o'  troubled.  It's  hardly  natural,  and  I  hope 
nothing  terrible  is  to  happen  now." 

Gavin  arranged  her  pillows  as  she  liked  them,  and  when  he 
next  stole  into  the  room  in  his  stocking  soles  to  look  at  her, 
he  thought  she  was  asleep.  But  she  was  not.  I  dare  say 
she  saw  at  that  moment  Gavin  in  his  first  frock,  and  Gavin 
in  knickerbockers,  and  Gavin  as  he  used  to  walk  into  the 
Glasgow  room  from  college,  all  still  as  real  to  her  as  the 
Gavin  who  had  a  kirk. 

The  little  minister  took  away  the  lamp  to  his  own  room, 
shaking  his  fist  at  himself  for  allowing  his  mother's  door  to 
creak.  He  pulled  up  his  blind.  The  town  lay  as  still  as 
salt.  But  a  steady  light  showed  in  the  south,  and  on  press- 
ing his  face  against  the  window  he  saw  another  in  the  west. 
Mr.  Carfrae's  words  about  the  night-watch  came  back  to  him. 
Perhaps  it  had  been  on  such  a  silent  night  as  this  that  the 
soldiers  marched  into  Thrums.    Would  they  come  again? 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FIRST    COMING    OF    THE    EGYPTIAN    WOMAN. 

A  LEARNED  man  says  in  a  book,  otherwise  beautiful  with 
truth,  that  villages  are  family  groups.  To  him  Thrums  would 
only  be  a  village,  though  town  is  the  word  we  have  ever 
used,  and  this  is  not  true  of  it. 

In  eight  days  Gavin's  figure  was  more  familiar  in  Thrums 
than  many  that  had  grown  bent  in  it.  He  had  already 
been  twice  to  the  cemetery,  for  a  minister  only  reaches  his 
new  charge  in  time  to  attend  a  funeral.  Though  short  of 
stature  he  cast  a  great  shadow.  He  was  so  full  of  his 
duties,  Jean  said,  that  though  he  pulled  to  the  door  as  he 
left  the  manse,  he  had  passed  the  currant-bushes  before  it 
snecked.  He  darted  through  courts,  and  invented  ways 
into  awkward  houses.  If  you  did  not  look  up  quickly  he 
was  round  the  corner.  His  visiting  exhausted  him  only 
less  than  his  zeal  in  the  pulpit,  from  which,  according  to 
report,  he  staggered  damp  with  perspiration  to  the  vestry, 
where  Hendry  Munn  wrung  him  like  a  wet  cloth.     A  deaf 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  17 

lady,  celebrated  for  giving  out  her  washing,  compelled  him 
to  hold  her  trumpet  until  she  had  peered  into  all  his  crannies, 
with  the  Shorter  Catechism  for  a  lantern.  Janet  Dundas  told 
him,  in  answer  to  his  knock,  that  she  could  not  abide  him,  but 
she  changed  her  mind  when  he  said  her  garden  was  quite 
a  show.  The  wives  who  expected  a  visit  scrubbed  their 
floois  for  him,  cleaned  out  their  presses  for  him,  put  diamond 
socks  on  their  bairns  for  him,  rubbed  their  hearthstones 
blue  for  him,  and  even  tidied  up  the  garret  for  him,  and 
triumphed  over  the  neighbours  whose  houses  he  passed  by. 
For  Gavin  blundered  occasionally  by  inadvertence,  as  when 
he  gave  dear  old  Betty  Davie  occasion  to  say  bitterly : 

"Ou  ay,  you  can  sail  by  my  door  and  gang  to  Easie's, 
but  I'm  thinking  you  would  stop  at  mine,  too,  if  I  had  a 
brass  handle  on't." 

So  passed  the  first  four  weeks,  and  then  came  the  fate- 
ful night  of  the  seventeenth  of  October,  and  with  it  the 
strange  woman.  Family  worship  at  the  manse  was  over 
and  Gavin  was  talking  to  his  mother,  who  never  crossed  the 
threshold  save  to  go  to  church  (though  her  activity  at  home 
was  among  the  marvels,  Jean  sometimes  slipped  down  to 
the  Tenements  to  announce)  when  Weary  world  the  policeman 
came  to  the  door  "with  Rob  Dow's  compliments,  and  if 
you're  no  wi'  me  by  ten  o'clock  I'm  to  break  out  again." 
Gavin  knew  what  this  meant,  and  at  once  set  off  for  Rob's. 

"You'll  let  me  gang  a  bit  wi'  you,"  the  policeman  entreated, 
"for  till  Rob  sent  me  on  this  errand  not  a  soul  has  spoken  to 
me  the  day;  ay,  mony  a  ane  hae  I  spoken  to,  but  not  a  man, 
woman,  nor  bairn  would  fling  me  a  word." 

"I  often  meant  to  ask  you,"  Gavin  said  as  they  went  along 
the  Tenements,  which  smelled  at  that  hour  of  roasted 
potatoes,   "why  you  are   so   unpopular." 

"It's  because  I'm  police.  I'm  the  first  ane  that  has  ever 
been  in  Thrums,  and  the  very  folk  that  appointed  me  at  a 
crown  a  week  looks  upon  me  as  a  disgraced  man  for  ac- 
cepting. It's  Gospel  that  my  ain  wife  is  short  wi'  me  when 
I've  on  my  uniform,  though  weel  she  kens  that  I  would 
rather  hae  stuck  to  the  loom  if  I  hadna  ha'en  sic  a  queer 
richt  leg.  Nobody  feels  the  shame  o'  my  position  as  I  do 
mysel',  but  this  is  a  town  without  pity." 

"It  should  be  a  consolation  to  you  that  you  are  discharging 
useful  duties." 

"But  I'm  no.  I'm  doing  harm.  There's  Charles  Dick- 
son says  that  tlie  very  sicht  o'  my  uniform  rouses  his  dander 


18  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

so  muckle  that  it  makes  him  break  windows,  though  a 
peaceably-disposed  man  till  I  was  appointed.  And  what's 
the  use  o'  their  haeing  a  policeman  when  they  winna  come 
to   the    lock-up   after    I    lay    hands   on   them?" 

"Do   they    say   they   won't   come?" 

"Say?  Catch  them  saying  onything !  They  just  gie  me 
a  wap  into  the  gutters.  If  they  would  speak  I  wouldna 
complain,  for  I'm  nat'rally  the  sociablest  man  in  Thrums." 

"Rob.  howev-er,  had  spoken  to  you." 

"Because  he  had  need  o'  me.  That  was  aye  Rob's  way, 
converted  or  no  converted.  When  he  was  blind  drunk  he 
would  order  me  to  see  him  safe  hame,  but  would  he  crack 
wi'  me?     Na,  na." 

Wearyworld,  who  was  so  called  because  of  his  forlorn 
way  of  muttering,  "It's  a  weary  warld,  and  nobody  bides 
in't,"  as  he  went  his  melancholy  rounds,  sighed  like  one 
about  to  cry,  and  Gavin  changed  the  subject. 

"Is  the  watch  for  the  soldiers  still  kept  up?"  he  asked. 

"It  is,  but  the  watchers  winna  let  me  in  aside  them. 
I'll  let  you  see  that  for  yoursel'  at  the  head  o'  the  Roods, 
for  they  watch  there  in  the  auld  windmill." 

Most  of  the  Thrums  lights  were  already  out,  and  that 
in  the  windmill  disappeared  as  footsteps  were  heard. 

"You're  desperate  characters,"  the  policeman  cried,  but 
got  no  answer.     He  changed  his  tactics. 

"A  fine  nicht  for  the  time  o'  year,"  he  cried.    No  answer. 

"But  I  wouldna  wonder,"  he  shouted,  "though  we  had 
rain  afore  morning."     No  answer. 

"Surely  you  could  gie  me  a  word  frae  ahint  the  door. 
You're  doing  an  onlawful  thing,  but  I  dinna  ken  wha  you 
are." 

"You'll  swear  to  that?"  some  one  asked  gruffly. 

"I  swear  to  it,  Peter." 

Wearyworld   tried   another    six   remarks    in   vain. 

"Ay,"  he  said  to  the  minister,  "that's  what  it  is  to  be 
an  onpopular  man.  And  now  I'll  hae  to  turn  back,  for  the 
very  anes  that  winna  let  me  join  them  would  be  the  first 
to  complain   if  I   gaed  out  o'  bounds." 

Gavin  found  Dow  at  New  Zealand,  a  hamlet  of  mud 
houses,  whose  tenants  could  be  seen  on  any  Sabbath  morning 
washing  themselves  in  the  burn  that  trickled  hard  by.  Rob's 
son,  Micah,  was  asleep  at  the  door,  but  he  brightened  when 
he  saw  who  was  shaking  him. 

"My    father   put    me    out,"   he    explained,   "because    he's 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  19 

daft  for  the  drink,  and  was  fleid  he  would  curse  me.  He 
hasna  cursed  me,"  Micah  added,  proudly,  "for  an  aucht 
days  come  Sahhath.  Hearken  to  him  at  his  loom.  He 
daurna  take  his  feet  off  the  treadles  for  fear  o'  running 
straucht  to  the  drink." 

Gavin  went  in.  The  loom,  and  two  stools,  the  one  four- 
footed  and  the  other  a  buffet,  were  Rob's  most  conspicuous 
furniture.  A  shaving-strap  hung  on  the  wall.  The  fire 
was  out,  but  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  charred  at  one  end,  showed 
how  he  heated  his  house.  He  made  a  fire  of  peat,  and 
on  it  placed  one  end  of  a  tree  trunk  that  might  be  six 
feet  long.  As  the  tree  burned  away  it  was  pushed  farther 
into  the  fireplace,  and  a  roaring  fire  could  always  be  got 
by  kicking  pieces  of  the  smouldering  wood  and  blowing  them 
into  flame  with  the  bellows.  When  Rob  saw  the  minister 
he  groaned  relief  and  left  his  loom.  He  had  been  weaving, 
his  teeth  clenched,  his  eyes  on  fire,  for  seven  hours. 

"I  wasna  fleid,"  little  Micah  said  to  the  neighbours  after- 
wards, "to  gang  in  wi'  the  minister.  He's  a  fine  man  that. 
He  didna  ca'  my  father  names.  Na,  he  said,  'You're  a  brave 
fellow,  Rob,'  and  he  took  my  father's  hand,  he  did.  My 
father  was  shaking  after  his  fecht  wi'  the  drink,  and, 
says  he,  'Mr.  Dishart,'  he  says,  'if  you'll  let  me  break  out 
nows  and  nans,  I  could  bide  straucht  atween  times,  but  I 
canna  keep  sober  if  I  hinna  a  drink  to  look  forrit  to.'  Ay, 
my  father  prigged  sair  to  get  one  fou  day  in  the  month, 
and  he  said,  'Syne  if  I  die  sudden,  there's  thirty  chances 
to  one  that  I  gang  to  heaven,  so  it's  worth  risking.'  But 
Mr.  Dishart  wouldna  hear  o't,  and  he  cries,  'No,  by  God,' 
he  cries,  'we'll  wrestle  wi'  the  devil  till  we  throttle  him,' 
and  down  him  and  my  father  gaed  on  their  knees. 

"The  minister  prayed  a  lang  time  till  my  father  said  his 
hunger  for  the  drink  was  gone,  'but,'  he  says,  'it  swells  up 
in  me  o'  a  sudden  aye,  and  it  may  be  back  afore  you're 
hame.'  'Then  come  to  me  at  once,'  says  Mr.  Dishart;  but 
my  father  says,  'Na,  for  it  would  haul  me  into  the  public- 
house  as  if  it  had  me  at  the  end  o'  a  rope,  but  I'll  send 
the  laddie.' 

"You  saw  my  father  crying  the  minister  back?  It  was 
to  gie  him  twa  pound,  and,  says  my  father,  'God  helping 
me,'  he  says,  'I'll  droon  mysel'  in  the  dam  rather  than 
let  the  drink  master  me,  but  in  case  it  should  get  baud  o' 
me  and  I  should  die  drunk,  it  would  be  a  michty  gratifica- 
tion to  me  to  ken  that  you  had  the  siller  to  bury  me  re- 


20  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


spectable  without  ony  help  frae  the  poor's  rates.*  The 
minister  wasna  for  taking  it  at  first,  but  he  took  it  when 
he  saw  how  earnest  my  father  was.  Ay,  he's  a  noble 
man.  After  he  gaed  awa  my  father  made  me  learn  the 
names  o'  the  apostles  frae  Luke  sixth,  and  he  says  to 
me,  'Miss  out  Bartholomew/  he  says,  'for  he  did  little,  and 
put  Gavin  Dishart  in  his  place.' " 

Feeling  as  old  as  he  sometimes  tried  to  look,  Gavin  turned 
homeward.  Margaret  was  already  listening  for  him.  You 
may  be  sure  she  knew  his  step.  I  think  our  steps  vary 
as  much  as  the  human  face.  My  bookshelves  were  made  by 
a  blind  man  who  could  identify  by  their  steps  nearly  all 
who  passed  his  window.  Yet  he  has  admitted  to  me  that 
he  could  not  tell  wherein  my  steps  differ  from  others ;  and 
this  I  believe,  though  rejecting  his  boast  that  he  could  dis- 
tinguish a  minister's  step  from  a  doctor's,  and  even  tell 
to  which  denomination  the  minister  belonged. 

I  have  sometimes  asked  myself  what  would  have  been 
Gavin's  future  had  he  gone  straight  home  that  night  from 
Dow's.  He  would  doubtless  have  seen  the  Egyptian  be- 
fore morning  broke,  but  she  would  not  have  come  upon 
him  like  a  witch.  There  are,  I  dare  say,  many  lovers  who 
would  never  have  been  drawn  to  each  other  had  they  met 
for  the  first  time,  as,  say,  they  met  the  second  time.  But 
such  dreaming  is  to  no  purpose.  Gavin  met  Sanders  Web- 
ster, the  mole-catcher,  and  was  persuaded  by  him  to  go  home 
by  Caddam  Wood. 

Gavin  took  the  path  to  Caddam,  because  Sanders  told 
him  the  Wild  Lindsays  were  there,  a  gypsy  family  that 
threatened  the  farmers  by  day  and  danced  devilishly,  it 
was  said,  at  night.  The  little  minister  knew  them  by  re- 
pute as  a  race  of  giants,  and  that  not  rnany  persons  would 
have  cared  to  face  them  alone  at  midnight ;  but  he  was 
feeling  as  one  wound  up  to  heavy  duties,  and  meant  to 
admonish  them  severely. 

Sanders,  an  old  man  who  lived  with  his  sister  Nanny 
on  the  edge  of  the  wood,  went  with  him,  and  for  a  time 
both  were   silent.     But  Sanders  had  something  to  say. 

"Was  you  ever  at  the  Spittal,  Mr.  Dishart?"  he  asked. 

"Lord  Rintoul's  house  at  the  top  of  Glen  Quharity?    No." 

"Hae  you  ever  looked  on  a  lord?" 

"No." 

"Or  on  an  auld  lord's  young  leddyship?     I  have." 

"What  is  she?" 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  21 

"You  surely  ken  that  Rintoul's  auld,  and  is  to  be  married 
on  a  young  leddyship.  She's  no'  a  leddyship  yet,  but  they're 
to  be  married  soon,  so  I  may  say  I've  seen  a  leddyship. 
Ay,   an   impressive   sicht.     It   was  yestreen." 

"Is  there  a  great  difference  in  their  ages?" 

"As  muckle  as  atween  auld  Peter  Spens  and  his  wife, 
wha  was  saxteen  when  he  was  saxty,  and  she  was  playing 
at  dumps  in  the  street  when  her  man  was  waiting  for 
her  to  make  his  porridge.  Ay,  sic  a  differ  doesna  suit 
wi'  common  folk,  but  of  course  earls  can  please  themsels. 
Rintoul's  so  fond  o'  the  leddyship  'at  is  to  be,  that  when  she 
was  at  the  school  in  Edinbury  he  wrote  to  her  ilka  day. 
Kaytherine  Crummie  telled  me  that,  and  she  says  aince  you're 
used  to  it,  writing  letters  is  as  easy  as  skinning  moles. 
I  dinna  ken  what  they  can  write  sic  a  heap  about,  but  I 
daur  say  he  gies  her  his  views  on  the  Chartist  agitation 
and  the  potato  disease,  and  she'll  write  back  about  the 
romantic  sichts  o'  Edinbury  and  the  sermons  ^o'  the  grand 
preachers  she  hears.  Sal,  though,  thae  grand  folk  has  no 
religion  to  speak  o',  for  they're  a'  English  kirk.  You're 
no'  speiring  what  her  leddyship  said  to  me  ?" 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"Weel,  you  see,  there  was  a  dancing  ball  on,  and  Kaytherine 
Crummie  took  me  to  a  window  whaur  I  could  stand  on  a 
flower-pot  and  watch  the  critturs  whirling  round  in  the 
ball  like  teetotums.  What's  mair,  she  pointed  out  the  leddy- 
ship that's  to  be  to  me,  and  I  just  glowered  at  her,  for 
thinks  I,  'Take  your  fill,  Sanders,  and  whaur  there's  lords 
and  leddyships,  dinna  waste  a  minute  on  colonels  and  hon- 
ourable misses  and  sic  like  dirt.'  Ay,  but  what  wi'  my 
een  blinking  at  the  blaze  o'  candles,  I  lost  sicht  o'  her  till 
all  at  aince  somebody  says  at  my  lug,  'Well,  my  man,  and 
who  is  the  prettiest  lady  in  the  room?'  Mr.  Dishart,  it 
was  her  leddyship.     She  looked  like  a  star." 

"And  what  did  you  do?" 

"The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  fall  aft'  the  flower-pot;  but 
syne  I  came  to,  and  says  I,  wi'  a  polite  smirk,  'I'm  think- 
ing, your  leddyship,'  says  I,  'as  vou're  the  bonniest  your- 
self.' " 

"I  see  you  are  a  cute  man,  Sanders." 

"Ay,  but  that's  no'  a'.  She  lauched  in  a  pleased  way  and 
tapped  me  wi'  her  fan,  and  says  she.  'Why  do  you  think 
me  the  prettiest?'  I  dinna  deny  but  what  that  staggered  me, 
but  I  thocht  a  minute,  and  took  a  look  at  the  other  dancers 


22  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


again,  and  syne  I  says,  michty  sly  like,  'The  other  leddies,' 
I  says,   'has   sic  snia'   feet.' " 

Sanders  stopped  here  and  looked  doubtingly  at  Gavin. 

"I  canna  make  up  my  mind,"  he  said,  "whether  she  liked 
that,  for  she  rapped  my  knuckles  wi'  her  fan  fell  sair,  and 
aff  she  gaed.  Ay,  I  consulted  Tammas  Haggart  about  it, 
and  he  says,  'The  flirty  crittur,'  he  says.  What  would  you 
say,   Mr.   Dishart?" 

Gavin  managed  to  escape  without  giving  an  answer,  for 
here  their  roads  separated.  He  did  not  find  the  Wild  Lind- 
says, however.  Children  of  whim,  of  prodigious  strength 
while  in  the  open,  but  destined  to  wither  quickly  in  the  hot 
air  of  towns,  they  had  gone  from  Caddam,  leaving  nothing 
of  themselves  behind  but  a  black  mark  burned  by  their 
fires  into  the  ground.  Thus  they  branded  the  earth  through 
many  counties  until  some  hour  when  the  spirit  of  wandering 
again  fell  on  them,  and  they  forsook  their  hearths  with  as 
little  compunction  as  the  bird  leaves  its  nest. 

Gavin  had  walked  quickly,  and  he  now  stood  silently  in 
the  wood,  his  hat  in  his  hand.  In  the  moonlight  the  grass 
seemed  tipped  with  hoar  frost.  Most  of  the  beeches  were 
already  bare,  but  the  shoots,  clustering  round  them,  like 
children  at  their  mother's  skirts,  still  retained  their  leaves 
red  and  brown.  Among  the  pines  these  leaves  were  as 
incongruous  as  a  wedding-dress  at  a  funeral.  Gavin  was 
standing  on  grass,  but  there  were  patches  of  heather  within 
sight,  and  broom,  and  the  leaf  of  the  blaeberry.  W"here 
the  beeches  had  drawn  up  the  earth  with  them  as  they  grew, 
their  roots  ran  this  way  and  that,  slippery  to  the  feet  and 
looking  like  disinterred  bones.  A  squirrel  appeared  suddenly 
on  the  charred  ground,  looked  doubtfully  at  Gavin  to  see 
if  he  was  growing  there,  and  then  glided  up  a  tree,  where 
it  sat  eyeing  him,  and  forgetting  to  conceal  its  shadow. 
Caddam  was  very  still.  At  long  intervals  came  from  far 
away  the  whack  of  an  axe  on  wood.  Gavin  was  in  a 
world  by  himself,  and  this  might  be  some  one  breaking 
into  it. 

The  mystery  of  wood,,  by  moonlight  thrilled  the  little 
minister.  His  eyes  rested  on  the  shining  roots,  and  he  re- 
membered what  had  been  told  him  of  the  legend  of  Caddam, 
how  once  on  a  time  it  was  a  mighty  wood,  and  a  maiden 
most  beautiful  stood  on  its  confines,  panting  and  afraid,  for 
a  wicked  man  pursued  her;  how  he  drew  near,  and  she 
ran  a  little  way  into  the  wood,  and  he  followed  her,  anC 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  23 

she  still  ran,  and  still  he  followed,  until  both  were  for  ever 
lost,  and  the  bones  of  her  pursuer  lie  beneath  a  beech,  but 
the  lady  may  still  be  heard  singing  in  the  woods  if  the 
night  be  fine,  for  then  she  is  a  glad  spirit,  but  weeping 
when  there  is  wild  wind,  for  then  she  is  but  a  mortal  seek- 
ing a  way  out  of  the  wood. 

The  squirrel  slid  down  the  fir  and  was  gone.  The  axe's 
blows  ceased.  Nothing  that  moved  was  in  sight.  The  wind 
that  has  its  nest  in  trees  was  circling  round  with  many 
voices,  that  never  rose  above  a  whisper,  and  were  often 
but  the  echo  of  a  sigh. 

Gavin  was  in  the  Caddam  of  past  days,  where  the  beauti- 
ful maiden  wanders  ever,  waiting  for  him  who  is  so  pure 
that  he  may  find  her.  He  will  wander  over  the  tree-tops 
looking  for  her,  with  the  moon  for  his  lamp,  and  some 
night  he  will  hear  her  singing.  The  little  minister  drew  a 
deep  breath,  and  his  foot  snapped  a  brittle  twig.  Then  he 
remembered  who  and  where  he  was,  and  stooped  to  pick 
up  his  stafif.  But  he  did  not  pick  it  up,  for  as  his  fingers 
were  closing  on  it  the  lady  began  to  sing. 

For  perhaps  a  minute  Gavin  stood  stock-still,  like  an  in- 
truder. Then  he  ran  towards  the  singing,  which  seemed 
to  come  from  Windyghoul,  a  straight  road  through  Caddam 
that  farmers  use  in  summer,  but  leave  in  the  back  end  of 
the  year  to  leaves  and  pools.  In  Windyghoul  there  is 
either  no  wind  or  so  much  that  it  rushes  down  the  sieve 
like  an  army,  entering  with  a  shriek  of  terror,  and  escaping 
with  a  derisive  howl.  The  moon  was  crossing  the  avenue. 
But  Gavin  only  saw  the  singer. 

She  was  still  fifty  yards  away,  sometimes  singing  glee- 
fully, and  again  letting  her  body  sway  lightly  as  she  came 
dancing  up  Windyghoul.  Soon  she  was  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  little  minister,  to  whom  singing,  except  when  out 
of  tune,  was  a  suspicious  thing,  and  dancing  a  device  of  the 
devil.  His  arm  went  out  wrathfully,  and  his  intention  was 
to  pronounce  sentence  on  this  woman. 

But  she  passed,  unconscious  of  his  presence,  and  he  had 
not  moved  nor  spoken.  Though  really  of  the  average  height, 
she  was  a  little  thing  to  the  eyes  of  Gavin,  who  always 
felt  tall  and  stout  except  when  he  looked  down.  The  grace 
of  her  swaying  figure  was  a  new  thing  in  the  world  to  him. 
Only  while  she  passed  did  he  see  her  as  a  gleam  of  colour, 
a  gypsy  elf  poorly  clad,  her  bare  feet  flashing  beneath  a 
short  green  skirt,  a  twig  of  rowan  berrips  stuck  carelessly 


24  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

into  her  black  hair.  Her  face  was  pale.  She  had  an  angel's 
loveliness.     Gavin  shook. 

Still  she  danced  onwards,  but  she  was  very  human,  for 
when  she  came  to  muddy  water  she  let  her  feet  linger  in  it, 
and  flung  up  her  arms,  dancing  more  wantonly  than  be- 
fore. A  diamond  on  her  finger  shot  a  thread  of  fire  over 
the  pool.     Undoubtedly  she  was  the  devil. 

Gavin  leaped  into  the  avenue,  and  she  heard  him  and 
looked  behind.  He  tried  to  cry  "Woman !"  sternly  but 
lost  the  word,  for  now  she  saw  him,  and  laughed  with 
her  shoulders,  and  beckoned  to  him,  so  that  he  shook  his 
fist  at  her.  She  tripped  on,  but  often  turning  her  head 
beckoned  and  mocked  him,  and  he  forgot  his  dignity  and 
his  pulpit  and  all  other  things,  and  ran  after  her.  Up 
Windyghoul  did  he  pursue  her,  and  it  was  well  that  the 
precentor  was  not  there  to  see.  She  reached  the  mouth  of 
the  avenue,  and,  kissing  her  hand  to  Gavin,  so  that  the  ring 
gleamed  again,  was  gone. 

The  minister's  one  thought  was  to  find  her,  but  he  searched 
in  vain.  She  might  be  crossing  the  hill  on  her  way  to 
Thrums,  or  perhaps  she  was  still  laughing  at  him  from 
behind  a  tree.  After  a  longer  time  than  he  was  aware  of, 
Gavin  realised  that  his  boots  were  chirping  and  his  trousers 
streaked  with  mud.  Then  he  abandoned  the  search  and  has- 
tened homewards  in  a  rage. 

From  the  hill  to  the  manse  the  nearest  way  is  down  two 
fields,  and  the  little  minister  descended  them  rapidly.  Thrums, 
which  is  red  in  daylight,  was  gray  and  still  as  the  cemetery. 
He  had  glimpses  of  several  of  its  deserted  streets.  To  the 
south  the  watch-light  showed  brightly,  but  no  other  waS 
visible.  So  it  seemed  to  Gavin,  and  then — suddenly — he  lost 
the  power  to  move.  He  had  heard  the  horn.  Thrice  it 
sounded,  and  thrice  it  struck  him  to  the  heart.  He  looked 
again  and  saw  a  shadow  stealing  along  the  Tenements,  then 
another,  then  half  a  dozen.  He  remembered  Mr.  Carfrae's 
words,  "If  you  ever  hear  that  horn,  I  implore  you  to  hasten 
to  the  square,"  and  in  another  minute  he  had  reached  the 
Tenements. 

Now  again  he  saw  the  gypsy.  She  ran  past  him,  half  a 
score  of  men,  armed  with  staves  and  pikes,  at  her  heels. 
At  first  he  thought  they  were  chasing  her,  but  they  were 
following  her  as  a  leader.  Her  eyes  sparkled  as  she  waved 
them  to  the  square  with  her  arms. 

"The  soldiers,  the  soldiers!"  was  the  universal  cry. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  25 

"Who  is  that  woman?"  demanded  Gavin,  catching  hold 
of  a  frightened  old  man. 

"Curse  the  Egyptian  limmer,"  the  man  answered,  "she's 
egging  my  laddie  on  to  fecht." 

"Bless  her  rather,"  the  son  cried,  "for  warning  us  that 
the  sojers  is  coming.  Put  your  ear  to  the  ground,  Mr. 
Dishart,  and  you'll  hear  the  dirl  o'  their  feet." 

The  young  man  rushed  away  to  the  square,  flinging  his 
father  from  him.  Gavin  followed.  As  he  turned  into 
the  school  wynd,  the  town  drum  began  to  beat,  windows 
were  thrown  open,  and  sullen  men  ran  out  of  closes  where 
women  were  screaming  and  trying  to  hold  them  back.  At 
the  foot  of  the  wynd  Gavin  passed  Sanders  Webster. 

"Mr.  Dishart,"  the  mole-catcher  cried,  "hae  you  seen  that 
Egyptian?  May  I  be  struck  dead  if  it's  no'  her  little  leddy- 
ship." 

But  Gavin  did  not  hear  him. 


CHAPTER  V. 

a  warlike  chapter,  culminating  in  the  flouting  of  the 
minister  by  the  woman. 

"Mr.  Dishart!" 

Jean  had  clutched  at  Gavin  in  Bank  Street.  Her  hair 
was  streaming,  and  her  wrapper  but  half  buttoned. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Dishart,  look  at  the  mistress !  I  couldna  keep 
her  in  the  manse." 

Gavin  saw  his  mother  beside  him,  bareheaded,  trembling. 

"How  could  I  sit  still,  Gavin,  and  the  town  full  o'  the 
skirls  of  women  and  bairns?  Oh,  Gavin,  what  can  I  do 
for  them?     They  will  suffer  most  this  night." 

As  Gavin  took  her  hand  he  knew  that  Margaret  felt  for 
the   people  more   than  he. 

"But  you  must  go  home,  mother,"  he  said,  "and  leave 
me  to  do  my  duty.  I  will  take  you  myself  if  you  will  not 
go  with  Jean.     Be  careful  of  her,  Jean." 

"Ay,  will  I,"  Jean  answered,  then  burst  into  tears.  "Mr. 
Dishart,"  she  cried,  "if  they  take  my  father  they'd  best  take 
my  mither,  too." 

The  two  women  went  back  to  the  manse,  where  Jean 
re-lit  the   fire,   having  nothing  else  to  do,  and  boiled  the 


26  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

kettle,  while  Margaret  wandered  in  anguish  from  room  to 
room. 

Men  nearly  naked  ran  past  Gavin,  seeking  to  escape  from 
Thrums  by  the  fields  he  had  descended.  VVhen  he  shouted 
to  them  they  only  ran  faster.  A  Tillyloss  weaver  whom  he 
tried  to  stop  struck  him  savagely  and  sped  past  to  the  square. 
In  Bank  Street,  which  was  full  of  people  at  one  moment 
and  empty  the  next,  the  minister  stumbled  over  old  Charles 
Yuill. 

"Take  me  and  welcome,"  Yuill  cried,  mistaking  Gavin 
for  the  enemy.  He  had  only  one  arm  through  the  sleeve  of 
his  jacket,  and  his   feet  were  bare. 

"I  am  Mr.  Dishart.  Are  the  soldiers  already  in  the  square, 
Yuill?" 

"They'll  be  there  in  a  minute." 

The  man  was  so  weak  that  Gavin  had  to  hold  him. 

"Be  a  man,  Charles.  You  have  nothing  to  fear.  It  is 
not  such  as  you  the  soldiers  have  come  for.  If  need  be, 
I  can  swear  that  you  had  not  the  strength,  even  if  you  had 
the  will,  to  join  in  the  weavers'  riot." 

"For  Godsake,  Mr.  Dishart,"  Yuill  cried,  his  hands 
chattering  on  Gavin's  coat,  "dinna  swear  that.  My  laddie 
was  in  the  thick  o'  the  riot;  and  if  he's  ta'en  there's  the 
poor's-house  gaping  for  Kitty  and  me,  for  I  couldna  weave 
half  a  web  a  week.  If  there's  a  warrant  agin  onybody  o' 
the  name  of  Yuill,  swear  it's  me;  swear  I'm  a  desperate 
character,  swear  I'm  michty  strong  for  all  I  look  palsied; 
and  if  when  they  take  me,  my  courage  breaks  down,  swear 
the  mair,  swear  I  confessed  my  guilt  to  you  on  the  Book." 

As  Yuill  spoke  the  quick  rub-a-dub  of  a  drum  was  heard. 

"The  soldiers!"  Gavin  let  go  his  hold  of  the  old  man, 
who  hastened  away  to  give  himself  up. 

"That's  no  the  sojers,"  said  a  woman ;  "it's  the  folk  gather- 
ing in  the  square.     This'll  be  a  watery  Sabbath  in  Thrums." 

"Rob  Dow,"  shouted  Gavin,  as  Dow  flung  past  with  a 
scythe  in  his  hand,  "lay  down  that  scythe." 

"To  hell  wi'  religion!"  Rob  retorted,  fiercely;  "it  spoils  a' 
thing." 

"Lay  down  that  scythe ;   I  command  you." 

Rob  stopped  undecidedly,  then  cast  the  scythe  from  him, 
but  its  rattle  on  the  stones  was  more  than  he  could  bear. 

"I  winna,"  he  cried,  and,  picking  it  up,  ran  to  the  square. 

An  upper  window  in  Bank  Street  opened,  and  Doctor 
McQueen  put  out  his  head.     He  was  smoking  as  usual. 


THE  LITTLE  IMINISTER  27 

"Mr.  Dishart,"  he  said,  "you  will  return  home  at  once 
if  you  are  a  wise  man ;  or,  better  still,  come  in  here.  You 
can   do  nothing  with   these   people   to-night." 

"I   can   stop   their    fighting." 

"You  will  only  make  black  blood  between  them  and 
you." 

"Dinna  heed  him,  Mr.  Dishart,"  cried  some  women. 

"You  had  better   heed  him,"  cried  a  man. 

"I  will  not  desert  my  people,"   Gavin  said. 

"Listen,  then,  to  my  prescription,"  the  doctor  replied. 
"Drive  that  gypsy  lassie  out  of  the  town  before  the  soldiers 
reach  it.  She  is  firing  the  men  to  a  red  heat  through  sheer 
devilry." 

"She  brocht  the  news,  or  we  would  have  been  nipped  in 
our  beds,"  some  people  cried. 

"Does  any  one  know  who  she  is  ?"  Gavin  demanded,  but 
all  shook  their  heads.  The  Egyptian,  as  they  called  her, 
had  never  been  seen  in  these  parts  before. 

"Has  any  other  person  seen  the  soldiers?"  he  asked.  "Per- 
haps this  is  a  false  alarm." 

"Several  have  seen  them  within  the  last  few  minutes," 
the  doctor  answered.  "They  came  from  Tilliedrum,  and 
were  advancing  on  us  from  the  south,  but  when  they  heard 
that  we  had  got  the  alarm  they  stopped  at  the  top  of  the 
brae,  near  T'nowhead's  farm.  Man,  you  would  take  these 
things  more  coolly  if  you  smoked." 

"Show  me  this  woman,"  Gavin  said,  sternly,  to  those  who 
had  been  listening.  Then  a  stream  of  people  carried  him 
into  the   square. 

To  Gavin,  who  never  before  had  seen  a  score  of  people 
in  the  square  at  once,  here  was  a  sight  strange  and  ter- 
rible. Andrew  Struthers,  an  old  soldier,  stood  on  the  out- 
side stair  of  the  town-house,  shouting  words  of  command 
to  some  fifty  weavers,  many  of  them  scantily  clad,  but  all 
armed  with  pikes  and  poles.  Most  were  known  to  the  little 
minister,  but  they  wore  faces  that  were  new  to  him.  New- 
comers joined  the  body  every  moment.  If  the  drill  was 
clumsy  the  men  were  fierce.  Hundreds  of  people  gathered 
round,  some  screaming,  some  shaking  their  fists  at  the  old 
soldier,  many  trying  to  pluck  their  relatives  out  of  danger. 
Gavin  could  not  see  the  Egyptian.  Women  and  old  men, 
fighting  for  the  possession  of  his  ear,  implored  him  to  dis- 
perse the  armed  band.  He  ran  up  the  town-house  stair, 
and  in  a  moment  it  had  become  a  pulpit. 


28  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Dinna  dare  to  interfere,  Mr.  Dishart,"  Struthers  said, 
savagely. 

"Andrew  Struthers,"  said  Gavin,  solemnly,  "in  the  name 
of  God  I  order  you  to  leave  me  alone.  If  you  don't,"  he 
added,   ferociously,   'Til   fling  you  over  the   stair." 

"Dinna  heed  him,  Andrew,"  some  one  shouted,  and  an- 
other cried,  "He  canna  understand  our  sufferings;  he  has 
dinner  ilka  day." 

Struthers  faltered,  however,  and  Gavin  cast  his  eye  over 
the  armed  men. 

"Rob  Dow,"  he  said,  "William  Carmichael,  Thomas 
Whamond,  William  Munn,  Alexander  Hobart,  Renders  Hag- 
gart,  step  forward." 

These  were  Auld  Lichts,  and  when  they  found  that  the 
minister  would  not  take  his  eyes  off  them,  they  obeyed,  all 
save  Rob  Dow. 

"Never  mind  him,  Rob,"  said  the  atheist,  Cruickshanks, 
"it's  better  playing  cards  in  hell  than  singing  psalms  in 
heaven." 

"Joseph  Cruickshanks,"  responded  Gavin,  grimly,  "you  will 
find  no  cards  down  there." 

Then  Rob  also  came  to  the  foot  of  the  stair.  There  was 
some  angry  muttering  from  the  crowd,  and  young  Charles 
Yuill  exclaimed,  "Curse  you,  would  you  lord  it  ower  us 
on  week-days  as  weel  as  on  Sabbaths  ?" 

"Lay  down  your  weapons,"  Gavin  said  to  the  six  men. 

They  looked  at  each  other.  Hobart  slipped  his  pike  be- 
hind his  back. 

"I  hae  no  weapon,"  he  said,  slily. 

"Let  me  hae  my  fling  this  nicht,"  Dow  entreated,  "and 
I'll  promise  to  bide  sober   for  a  twelvemonth." 

"Oh,  Rob,  Rob!"  the  minister  said,  bitterly,  "are  you 
the  man  I  prayed  with  a  few  hours  ago?" 

The  scythe  fell  from  Rob's  hands. 

"Down  wi'  your  pikes,"  he  roared  to  his  companions,  "or 
I'll  brain  you  wi'  them." 

"Ay,  lay  them  down,"  the  precentor  whispered,  "but  keeg 
your  feet  on  them." 

Then  the  minister,  who  was  shaking  with  excitement, 
though  he  did  not  know  it,  stretched  forth  his  arms  iot 
silence,  and  it  came  so  suddenly  as  to  frighten  the  people 
in  the  neighbouring  streets." 

"If  he  prays  we're  done  for,"  cried  young  Charles  Yuill, 
but  even  in  that  hour  many  of  the  people  were  unbonneted. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  29 

"Oh,  Thou  who  art  the  Lord  of  Hosts,"  Gavin  prayed, 
"we  are  in  Thy  hands  this  night.  These  are  Thy  people, 
and  they  have  sinned;  but  Thou  art  a  merciful  God,  and 
they  were  sore  tried,  and  knew  not  what  they  did.  To 
Thee,  our  God,  we  turn  for  deliverance,  for  without  Thee 
we  are  lost." 

The  little  minister's  prayer  was  heard  all  round  the  square, 
and  many  weapons  were  dropped  as  an  Amen  to  it. 

"If  you  fight,"  cried  Gavin,  brightening  as  he  heard  the 
clatter  of  the  iron  on  the  stones,  "your  wives  and  children 
may  be  shot  in  the  streets.  These  soldiers  have  come  for  a 
dozen  of  you ;  will  you  be  benefited  if  they  take  away  a 
hundred?" 

"Oh,  hearken  to  him,"  cried  many  women. 

"I  winna,"  answered  a  man,  "for  I'm  ane  o'  the  dozen. 
Whaur's  the   Egyptian?" 

"Here." 

Gavin  saw  the  crowd  open,  and  the  woman  of  Windyghoul 
come  out  of  it,  and,  while  he  should  have  denounced  her. 
Tie  only  blinked,  for  once  more  her  loveliness  struck  him 
full  in  the  eyes.  She  was  beside  him  on  the  stair  before  he 
became  a  minister  again. 

"How  dare  you,  woman?"  he  cried;  but  she  flung  a  rowan 
berry  at  him. 

"If  I  were  a  man,"  she  exclaimed,  addressing  the  people, 
"I  wouldna  let  myself  be  catched  like  a  mouse  in  a  trap." 

"We  winna,"  some  answered. 

"What  kind  o'  women  are  you,"  cried  the  Egyptian,  her 
face  gleaming  as  she  turned  to  her  own  sex,  "that  bid  your 
men-folk  gang  to  gaol  when  a  bold  front  would  lead  them 
to  safety  ?     Do  you  want  to  be  husbandless  and  hameless  ?" 

"Disperse,  I  command  you !"  cried  Gavin.  "This  aban- 
doned woman   is   inciting  you  to  riot." 

"Dinna  heed  this  little  man,"  the  Egyptian  retorted. 

It  is  curious  to  know  that  even  at  that  anxious  moment 
Gavin  winced  because  she  called  him  little. 

"She  has  the  face  of  a  mischief-maker,"  he  shouted,  "and 
her  words  are  evil." 

"You  men  and  women  o'  Thrums,"  she  responded,  "ken 
that  I  wish  you  weel  by  the  service  I  hae  done  you  this 
nicht.    Wha  telled  you  the  sojers  was  coming?" 

"It  was  you ;  it  was  you !" 

"Ay,  and  mony  a  mile  I  ran  to  bring  the  news.  Listen, 
and  I'll  tell  you  mair." 


30  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"She  has  a  false  tongue,"  Gavin  cried;  "listen  not  to  the 
brazen  woman." 

"What  I  have  to  tell,"  she  said,  "is  as  true  as  what  I've 
telled  already,  and  how  true  that  is  you  a'  ken.  You're 
wondering  how  the  sojers  has  come  to  a  stop  at  the  tap  o' 
the  brae  instead  o'  marching  on  the  town.  Here's  the  reason. 
They  agreed  to  march  straucht  to  the  square  if  the  alarm 
wasna  given,  but  if  it  was  they  were  to  break  into  small 
bodies  and  surround  the  town  so  that  you  couldna  get  out. 
That's  what  they're  doing  now." 

At  this  the  screams  were  redoubled,  and  many  men  lifted 
the  weapons  they  had  dropped. 

"Believe  her  not,"  cried  Gavin.  "How  could  a  wandering 
gypsy  know  all  this?" 

"Ay,  how  can  you  ken?"  some  demanded. 

"It's  enough  that  I  do  ken,"  the  Egyptian  answered.  "And 
this  mair  I  ken,  that  the  captain  of  the  soldiers  is  confident 
he'll  nab  every  one  o'  you  that's  wanted  unless  you  do  one 
thing." 

"What  is  't?" 

"If  you  a'  run  diflferent  ways  you're  lost,  but  if  you  keep 
thegither  you'll  be  able  to  force  a  road  into  the  country 
whaur  you  can  scatter.     That's  what  he's   fleid  you'll  do." 

"Then  it's  what  we  will  do." 

"It  is  what  you  will  not  do,"  Gavin  said,  passionately. 
"The  truth  is  not  in  this  wicked  woman." 

But  scarcely  had  he  spoken  when  he  knew  that  startling 
news  had  reached  the  square.  A  murm.ur  arose  on  the  skirts 
of  the  mob,  and  swept  with  the  roar  of  the  sea  towards 
the  town-house.  A  detachment  of  the  soldiers  were  march- 
ing down  the  Roods  from  the  north. 

"There's  some  coming  frae  the  east-town  end,"  was  the 
next  intelligence;  "and  they've  gripped  Sanders  Webster,  and 
auld  Charles  Yuill  has  given  himsel'  up." 

"You  see,  you  see,"  the  gypsy  said,  flashing  triumph  at 
Gavin. 

"Lay  down  your  weapons,"  Gavin  cried,  but  his  power  over 
the  people  had  gone. 

"The  Egyptian  spoke  true,"  they  shouted;  "dinna  heed 
the  minister." 

Gavin  tried  to  seize  the  gypsy  by  the  shoulders,  but 
she  slipped  past  him  down  the  stair,  and  crying  "Follow 
me !"  ran  round  the  town-house  and  down  the  brae. 

"Woman!"  he  shouted  after  her,  but  she  only  waved  her 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  31 

arms  scornfully.  The  people  followed  her,  many  of  the 
men  still  grasping  their  weapons,  but  all  in  disorder.  Within 
a  minute  after  Gavin  saw  the  gleam  of  the  ring  on  her 
finger,  as  she  waved  her  hands,  he  and  Dow  were  alone 
in  the  square. 

"She's  an  awfu'  woman  that,"  Rob  said.  "I  saw  her 
lauching." 

Gavin  ground  his  teeth. 

"Rob  Dow,"  he  said,  slowly,  "if  I  had  not  found  Christ 
I  would  have  throttled  that  woman.  You  saw  how  she 
flouted  me?" 


CHAPTER  VI, 

IN    WHICH    THE    SOLDIERS     MEET    THE    AMAZONS    OF    THRUMS. 

Dow  looked  shamefacedly  at  the  minister,  and  then  set  off 
up  the  square. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Rob?" 

"To  gie  myself  up.  I  maun  do  something  to  let  you  see 
there's  one  man  in  Thrums  that  has  mair  faith  in  you  than 
in   a    fliskmahoy." 

"And  only  one,  Rob.  But  I  don't  know  that  they  want 
to  arrest  you." 

"Ay,  I  had  a  hand  in  tying  the  polissman  to  the — " 

"I  want  to  hear  nothing  about  that,"  Gavin  said,  quickly. 

"Will  I  hide,  then?" 

"I  dare  not  advise  you  to  do  that.     It  would  be  wrong." 

Half  a  score  of  fugitives  tore  past  the  town-house,  and 
were  out  of  sight  without  a  cry.  There  was  a  tread  of 
heavier  feet,  and  a  dozen  soldiers,  with  several  policemen 
and  two  prisoners,  appeared  suddenly  on  the  north  side  of 
the  square. 

"Rob,"  cried  the  minister  in  desperation,  "run !" 

When  the  soldiers  reached  the  town-house,  where  they 
locked  up  their  prisoners,  Dow  was  skulking  eastward, 
and  Gavin  running  down  the  brae. 

"They're  fechting,"  he  was  told,  "they're  fechting  on 
the  brae,  the  sojers  is  firing,  a  man's  killed!" 

But   this   was   an   exaggeration. 

The  brae,  though  short,  is  very  steep.  There  is  a  hedge 
on  one  side  of  it,  from  which  the  land  falls  away,  and  on 
the    other    side    a    hillock.      Gavin    reached    the    scene    to 


32  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

see  the  soldiers  marching  down  the  brae,  guarding  a  small 
body  of  policemen.  The  armed  weavers  were  retreating 
before  them.  A  hundred  women  or  more  were  on  the 
hillock,  shrieking  and  gesticulating.  Gavin  joined  them, 
calling  on  them  not  to  fling  the  stones  they  had  begun  to 
gather. 

The  armed  men  broke  into  a  rabble,  flung  down  their 
weapons,  and  fled  back  towards  the  town-house.  Here  they 
almost  ran  against  the  soldiers  in  the  square,  who  again 
forced  them  into  the  brae.  Finding  themselves  about  to  be 
wedged  between  the  two  forces,  some  crawled  through  the 
hedge,  where  they  were  instantly  seized  by  policemen.  Others 
sought  to  climb  up  the  hillock  and  then  escape  into  the 
country.  The  policemen  clambered  after  them.  The  men 
were  too  frightened  to  fight,  but  a  woman  seized  a  police- 
man by  the  waist  and  flung  him  head  foremost  among  the 
soldiers.  One  of  these  shouted  "Fire !"  but  the  captain 
cried  "No."  Then  came  showers  of  missiles  from  the  women. 
They  stood  their  ground  and  defended  the  retreat  of  the 
scared  men. 

Who  flung  the  first  .stone  is  not  known,  but  it  is  believed 
to  have  been  the  Egyptian.  The  policemen  were  recalled, 
and  the  whole  body  ordered  to  advance  down  the  brae. 
Thus  the  weavers  who  had  not  escaped  at  once  were  driven 
before  them,  and  soon  hemmed  in  between  the  two  bodies 
of  .soldiers,  when  they  were  easily  captured.  But  foi 
two  minutes  there  was  a  thick  shower  of  stones  and  clods 
of  earth. 

It  was  ever  afterwards  painful  to  Gavin  to  recall  this 
scene,  but  less  on  account  of  the  shower  of  stones  than 
because  of  the  flight  of  one  divit  in  it.  He  had  been  watch- 
ing the  handsome  young  captain,  Halliwell,  riding  with  his 
men;  admirin.c,  him,  too,  for  his  coolness.  This  coolness 
exasperated  the  gypsy,  who  twice  flung  at  Halliwell  and 
missed  him.     He  rode  on,  smiling  contemptuously. 

"Oh,  if  I  could  only  fling  straight!"  the  Egyptian  moaned. 

Then  she  saw  the  minister  by  her  side,  and  in  the  tick 
of  a  clock  something  happened  that  can  never  be  explained. 
For  the  moment  Gavin  was  so  lost  in  misery  over  the  prob- 
able effect  of  the  night's  rioting  that  he  had  forgotten  where 
he  was.  Suddenly  the  Egyptian's  beautiful  face  was  close 
to  his,  and  she  pressed  a  divit  into  his  hand,  at  the  same 
time  pointing  at  the  officer,  and  whispering  "Hit  him." 

Gavin  flung  the  clod  of  earth,  and  hit  Halliwell  on  the  head. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  33 

I 

I  say  I  cannot  explain  this.  I  tell  what  happened,  and 
add  with  thankfulness  that  only  the  Egyptian  witnessed  the 
deed.  Gavin,  I  suppose,  had  flung  the  divit  before  he 
could  stay  his  hand.     Then  he  shrank  in  horror. 

"Woman!"  he  cried  again. 

"You  are  a  dear,"  she  said,  and  vanished. 

By  the  time  Gavin  was  breathing  freely  again  the  lock-up 
was  crammed  with  prisoners,  and  the  Riot  Act  had  been 
read  from  the  town-house  stair.  It  is  still  remembered  that 
the  baron-tailie,  to  whom  this  duty  fell,  had  got  no  further 
than  "Victoria,  by  the  Grace  of  God,"  when  the  paper  was 
struck  out  of  his  hands. 

While  Gavin  was  with  the  families  whose  breadwinners 
were  now  in  the  lock-up,  a  cell  that  was  usually  crammed 
on  fair  nights  and  empty  for  the  rest  of  the  year,  the  sheriff 
and  Halliwell  were  in  the  round-room  of  the  town-house,  not 
in  a  good  temper.  They  spoke  loudly,  and  some  of  their 
words  sank  into  the  cell  below. 

"The  whole  thing  has  been  a  fiasco,"  the  sheriff  was 
heard  saying,  "owing  to  our  failing  to  take  them  by  sur- 
prise. Why,  three- fourths  of  those  taken  will  have  to  be 
liberated,  and  we  have  let  the  worst  offenders  slip  through 
our  hands." 

"Well,"  answered  Halliwell,  who  was  wearing  a  hea\'y 
cloak,  "I  have  brought  your  policemen  into  the  place,  and 
that  is  all  I  undertook  to  do." 

"You  brought  them,  but  at  the  expense  of  alarming  the 
country-side.     I  wish  we  had  come  without  you." 

"Nonsense !  My  men  advanced  like  ghosts.  Could  your 
police  have  come  down  that  brae  alone  to-night?" 

"Yes,  because  it  would  have  been  deserted.  Your  sol- 
diers, I  tell  you,  have  done  the  mischief.  This  woman,  who, 
so  many  of  our  prisoners  admit,  brought  the  news  of  our 
coming,  must  either  have  got  it  from  one  of  your  men  or 
have  seen  them  on  the  march." 

"The  men  did  not  know  their  destination.  True,  she 
might  have  seen  us  despite  our  precautions,  but  you  for- 
get that  she  told  them  how  we  were  to  act  in  the  event 
of  our  being  seen.    That  is  what  perplexes  me." 

"Yes,  and  me  too,  for  it  was  a  close  secret  between  you 
and  me  and  Lord  Rintoul  and  not  half  a  dozen  others." 

"Well,  find  the  woman,  and  we  shall  get  the  explanation. 
If  she  is  still  in  the  town  she  cannot  escape,  for  my  men 
are  everywhere." 


34  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


"She  was  seen  ten  minutes  ago." 

"Then  she  is  ours.  I  say,  Riach,  if  I  were  you  I  would 
set  all  my  prisoners  free  and  take  away  a  cartload  of 
their  wives  instead.  I  have  only  seen  the  backs  of  the 
men  of  Thrums,  but,  on  my  word,  I  very  nearly  ran  away 
from  the  women.  Hallo !  I  believe  one  of  your  police  has 
caught  our  virago  single-handed." 

So  Halliwell  exclaimed,  hearing  some  one  shout,  "This 
is  the  rascal !"  But  it  was  not  the  Egyptian  who  was  then 
thrust  into  the  round-room.  It  was  John  Dunwoodie,  look- 
ing very  sly.  Probably  there  was  not,  even  in  Thrums,  a 
cannier  man  than  Dunwoodie.  His  religious  views  were 
those  of  Cruickshanks,  but  he  went  regularly  to  church  "on 
the  off-chance  of  their  being  a  God  after  all ;  so  I'm  safe, 
whatever  side  may  be  wrong." 

"This  is  the  man,"  explained  a  policeman,  "who  brought 
the  alarm.  He  admits  himself  having  been  in  Tilliedrum 
just  before  we  started." 

"Your  name,  my  man?"  the  sheriff  demanded. 

"It  micht  be  John  Dunwoodie,"  the  tinsmith  answerec^ 
cautiously. 

"But  is  it?" 

"I  dinna  say  it's  no." 

"You  were  in  Tilliedrum  this  evening?" 

"I  micht  hae  been." 

"Were  you  ?" 

"I'll  swear  to  nothing." 

"Why  not  ?" 

"Because  I'm  a  canny  man." 

"Into  the  cell  with  him,"  Halliwell  cried,  losing  patience. 

"Leave  him  to  me,"  said  the  sheriff.  "I  understand  the 
sort  of  man.  Now,  Dunwoodie,  what  were  you  doing  in 
Tilliedrum  ?" 

"I  was  taking  my  laddie  down  to  be  prenticed  to  a  writer 
there,"  answered  Dunwoodie,  falling  into  the  sheriff's  net. 

"What  are  you  yourself?" 

"I  micht  be  a  tinsmith  to  trade." 

"And  you,  a  mere  tinsnith,  dare  to  tell  me  that  a  lawyer 
was  willing  to  take  your  son  into  his  office?  Be  cautious, 
Dunwoodie." 

"Weel,  then,  the  laddie's  highly  edicated  and  I  hae  siller, 
and  that's  how  the  writer  was  to  take  him  and  make  a 
gentleman  o'  him." 

"I  learn   from  the  neighbours."  the  noUceman  explained. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  35 

»■— ^■— ■"■^^^■^^^— — — ^^^^— ^— — ^— ^■— — — — i— ^»^—i »»»^^— 

"that  this  is  partly  true,  but  what  makes  us  suspect  him 
is  this :  He  left  the  laddie  at  Tilliedrum,  and  yet  when 
he  came  home  the  first  person  he  sees  at  the  fireside  is 
the  laddie  himself.  The  laddie  had  run  home,  and  the 
reason  plainly  was  that  he  had  heard  of  our  preparations 
and  wanted  to  alarm  the  town." 

"There  seems  something  in  this,  Dunwoodie,"  the  sheriff 
said,  "and  if  you  cannot  explain  it  I  must  keep  you  in 
custody." 

"I'll  make  a  clean  breast  o't/'  Dunwoodie  replied,  seeing 
that  in  this  matter  truth  was  best.  "The  laddie  was  ter- 
rible against  being  made  a  gentleman,  and  when  he  saw 
the  kind  o'  life  he  would  hae  to  lead,  clean  hands,  clean 
dickies,  and  no  gutters  on  his  breeks,  his  heart  took  mair 
scunner  at  genteelity  than  ever,  and  he  ran  hame.  Ay, 
I  was  mad  when  I  saw  him  at  the  fireside,  but  he  says  to 
me,  'How  would  you  like  to  be  a  gentleman  yoursel',  father?' 
he  says,  and  that  so  affected  me  'at  I'm  to  gie  him  his 
ain  way." 

Another  prisoner,  Dave  Langlands,  was  confronted  with 
Dunwoodie. 

"John  Dunwoodie's  as  innocent  as  I  am  mysel',"  Dave 
said,  "and  I'm  most  michty  innocent.  It  wasna  John  but 
the  Egyptian  that  gave  the  alarm.  I  tell  you  what,  sheriff, 
if  it'll  make  me  innocenter-like  I'll  picture  the  Egyptian  to 
you  just  as  I  saw  her,  and  syne  you'll  be  able  to  catch 
her  easier." 

"You  are  an  honest  fellow,"  said  the  sheriff. 

"I  only  wish  I  had  the  whipping  of  him,"  growled  Halli- 
well,  who  was  of  a  generous  nature. 

"For  what  business  had  she,"  continued  Dave,  righteously, 
"to  meddle  in  other  folks'  business?  She's  no  a  Thrums 
lassie,  and  so  I  say,  'Let  the  law  take  its  course  on  her." 

"Will  you  listen  to  such  a  cur,  Riach?"  asked  Halliwell. 

"Certainly.     Speak  out,  Langlands." 

"Weel,  then,  I  was  in  the  windmill  the  nicht." 

"You  were  a  watcher?" 

"I  happened  to  be  in  the  windmill  wi'  another  man," 
Dave  went  on,  avoiding  the  officer's  question. 

"What  was  his  name  ?"  demanded  Halliwell. 

"It  was  the  Egyptian  I  was  to  tell  you  about,"  Dave  said, 
looking   to   the   sheriff. 

"Ah,  yes,  you  only  tell  tales  about  women,"  said  Halliwell. 

"Strange  women,"  corrected  Dave.    "Weel,  we  was  there. 


36  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

and  it  would  maybe  be  twal  o'clock,  and  we  was  speaking 
(but  about  lawful  things)  when  we  heard  some  ane  running 
yont  the  road.  I  keeked  through  a  hole  in  the  door,  and 
I  saw  it  was  an  Egyptian  lassie  'at  I  had  never  clapped 
een  on  afore.  She  saw  the  licht  in  the  window,  and  she 
cried,  'Hie,  you  billies  in  the  windmill,  the  sojers  is  coming!' 
I  fell  ill  a  fricht,  but  the  other  man  opened  the  door,  and 
again  she  cries,  'The  sojers  is  coming;  quick,  or  you'll  be 
ta'en.'  At  that  the  other  man  up  wi'  his  bonnet  and  ran, 
but  I  didna  make  off  so  smart." 

"You  had  to  pick  yourself  up  first,"  suggested  the  officer. 

"Sal,  it  was  the  lassie  picked  me  up ;  ay,  and  she  picked 
up  a  horn  at  the  same  time." 

"  'Blaw  on  that,'  she  cried,  'and  alarm  the  town.*  But 
sheriff,  I  didna  do't.  Na,  I  had  ower  muckle  respect  for 
the  law." 

"In  other  words,"  said  Halliwell,  "you  also  bolted,  and 
left  the  gypsy  to  blow  the  horn  herself." 

"I  dinna  deny  but  what  I  made  my  feet  my  friend,  but 
it  wasna  her  that  blew  the  horn.  I  ken  that,  for  I  looked 
back  and  saw  her  trying  to  do't,  but  she  couldna,  she  didna 
ken  the  way." 

"Then  who  did  blow  it?" 

"The  first  man  she  met,  I  suppose.  We  a'  kent  that  the 
horn  was  to  be  the  signal  except  Wearywarld.  He's  police, 
so  we  kept  it  frae  him." 

"That  is  all  you  saw  of  the  woman?" 

"Ay,  for  I  ran  straucht  to  my  garret,  and  there  your 
men  took  me.     Can  I  gae  hame  now,  sheriff?" 

"No,  you  cannot.     Describe  the  woman's  appearance." 

"She  had  a  heap  o'  rowan  berries  stuck  in  her  hair,  and, 
I  think,  she  had  on  a  green  wrapper  and  a  red  shawl.  She 
had  a  most  extraordinary  face.  I  canna  exact  describe  it, 
for  she  would  be  lauchin'  one  second  and  syne  solemn  the 
next.  I  tell  you  her  face  changed  as  quick  as  you  could 
turn  the  pages  o'  a  book.  Ay,  here  comes  Wearywarld  to 
speak  up  for  me." 

Wearyworld  entered  c'leerfully. 

"This  is  the  local  policeman,"  a  TilHedrum  officer  said; 
"we  have  been  searching  for  him  everywhere,  and  only 
found  him   now." 

"Where  have  you  been?"  asked  the  sheriff,  wrathfully. 

"Whaur  maist  honest  men  is  at  this  hour,"  replied  Weary- 
world;  "in  my  bed." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  37 

f 

"How  dared  you  ignore  your  duty  at  such  a  time?" 

"It's  a  long  story,"  the  policeman  answered,  pleasantly,  in 
anticipation  of  a  talk  at  last. 

"Answer  me  in  a  word." 

"In  a  word !"  cried  the  policeman,  quite  crestfallen.  "It 
canna  be  done.  You'll  need  to  cross-examine  me,  too.  It's 
my  lawful  richt." 

"I'll  take  you  to  the  Tilliedrum  gaol  for  your  share  in 
this  night's  work  if  you  do  not  speak  to  the  purpose.  Why 
did  you  not  hasten  to  our  assistance?" 

"As  sure  as  death  I  never  kent  you  was  here.  I  was 
up  the  Roods  on  my  rounds  when  I  heard  an  awfu'  din 
down  in  the  square,  and  thinks  I,  there's  rough  characters 
about,  and  the  place  for  honest  folk  is  their  bed.  So  to 
my  bed  I  gaed,  and  I  was  in't  when  your  men  gripped  me." 

"We  must  see  into  this  before  we  leave.  In  the  mean- 
time you  will  act  as  a  guide  to  my  searchers.  Stop !  Do 
you  know  anything  of  this  Egyptian?" 

"What  Egyptian?     Is't  a  lassie  wi'  rowans  in  her  hair?" 

"The  same.    Have  you  seen  her?" 

"That  I  have.  There's  nothing  agin  her,  is  there  ?  What- 
ever it  is,  I'll  uphaud  she  didna  do't,  for  a  simpler,  franker- 
spoken  crittur  couldna  be." 

"Never  mind  what  I  want  her  for.  When  did  you  see 
her?" 

"It  would  be  about  twal  o'clock,"  began  Wearyworld, 
unctuously,  "when  I  was  in  the  Roods,  ay,  no  lang  afore 
I  heard  the  disturbance  in  the  square.  I  was  standing  in 
the  middle  o'  the  road,  wondering  how  the  door  o'  the 
windmill  was  swinging  open,  when  she  came  up  to  me. 

"  'A  fine  nicht  for  the  time  o'  year,'  I  says  to  her,  for 
nobody  but  the  minister  had  spoken  to  me  a'  day. 

"  'A  very  fine  nicht,'  says  she,  very  frank,  though  she 
was  breathing  quick  like  as  if  she  had  been  running.  'You'll 
be  police?'  says  she. 

"  'I  am,'  says  I,  'and  wha  be  you  ?* 

"  'I'm  just  a  puir  gypsy  lassie,'  she  says. 

"  'And  what's  that  in  your  hand  ?'  says  I. 

"'It's  a  horn  I  found  in  the  wood,'  says  she,  'but  it's 
rusty  and  winna  blaw.' 

"I  laughed  at  her  ignorance,  and  says  I,  'I  warrant  I 
could  blaw  it.' 

"  'I  dinna  believe  you,'  says  she. 

"  'Gie  me  havid  o't,'  says  I,  and  she  gae  it  to  me.  and 


38  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

I  blew  some  bonny  blasts  on't.  Ay,  you  see  she  didna  ken 
the  way  o't.  'Thank  you  kindly,'  says  she,  and  she  ran 
awa  without  even  minding  to  take  the  horn  back  again." 

"You  incredible  idiot!"  cried  the  sheriff.  "Then  it  was 
you  who  gave  the  alarm?" 

"What  hae  I  done  to  madden  you?"  honest  Wearyworld 
asked,  in  perplexity. 

"Get  out  of  my  sight,  sir!"  roared  the  sheriff. 

But  the   captain   laughed. 

"I  like  your  doughty  policeman,  Riach,"  he  said.  "Hie, 
obliging  friend,  let  us  hear  how  this  gypsy  struck  you 
How  was  she  dressed?" 

"She  was  snod,  but  no  unca  snod,"  replied  Wearyworld 
stiffly. 

"I   don't  understand  you." 

"I  mean  she  was  couthie,  but  no  sair  in  order." 

"What  on   earth   is  that?" 

"Weel,  a  tasty  stocky,  but  gey  orra  put  on." 

*'What  language  are  you  speaking,  you  enigma?" 

"I'm  saying  she  was  naturally  a  bonny  bit  kimmer  rather 
than  happit  up  to  the  nines." 

"Oh,  go  away,"  cried  Halliwell ;  whereupon  Wearyworld 
descended  the  stair  haughtily,  declaring  that  the  sheriff  was 
an  unreasonable  man,  and  that  he  was  a  queer  captai» 
who  did  not  understand  the  English  language. 

"Can  I  gae  hame  now,  sheriff?"  asked  Langlands,  hope- 
fully. 

"Take  this  fellow  back  to  his  cell."  Riach  directed  shortly, 
"and  whatever  else  you  do,  see  that  you  capture  this  woman. 
Halliwell,  I  am  going  out  to  look  for  her  myself.  Con- 
found it,  what  are  you  laughing  at?" 

"At  the  way  this  vixen  has  slipped  through  your  fingers." 

"Not  quite  that,  sir,  not  quite  that.  She  is  in  Thrums 
still,  and  I  swear  I'll  have  her  before  day  breaks.  See  to 
it,  Halliwell,  that  if  she  is  brought  here  in  my  absence 
she  does  not  slip  through  your  fingers." 

"If  she  is  brought  here,"  said  Halliwell,  mocking  him, 
"you  must  return  and  p.otect  me.  It  would  be  cruelty  to 
leave  a  poor  soldier  in  the  hands  of  a  woman  of  Thrums." 

"She  is  not  a  Thrums  woman.  You  have  been  told  so 
a» dozen  times." 

"Then  I  am  not  afraid." 

In  the  round-room  (which  is  oblong),  there  is  a  throne 
on  which  the  bailie   sits  when   he  dispenses  justice.     It  is 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  39 


swathed  in  red  cloths  that  give  it  the  appearance  of  a  pulpit. 
Left  to  himself,  Halliwell  flung  off  his  cloak,  and  taking  a 
chair  near  this  dais  rested  his  legs  on  the  bare  wooden 
table,  one  on  each  side  of  the  lamp.  He  was  still  in  this 
position  when  the  door  opened,  and  two  policemen  thrust 
the  Egyptian  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

HAS   THE  FOLLY   OF   LOOKING   INTO    A    WOMAN'S   EYES   BY 
WAY   OF  TEXT. 

"This  is  the  woman,  captain,"  one  of  the  policemen  said,  in 
triumph;  "and,  begging  your  pardon,  will  you  keep  a  grip 
of  her  till  the  sheriff  comes  back?" 

Halliwell  did  not  turn  his  head. 

"You  can  leave  her  here,"  he  said,  carelessly.  "Three  of 
us  are  not  needed  to  guard  a  woman." 

"But  she's  a  slippery  customer." 

"You  can  go,"  said  Halliwell;  and  the  policemen  with- 
drew slowly,  eyeing  their  prisoner  doubtfully  until  the  door 
closed.  Then  the  officer  wheeled  round  languidly,  expecting 
to  find  the  Egyptian  gaunt  and  muscular. 

"Now  then,"  he  drawled,  "why — By  Jove !" 

The  gallant  soldier  was  as  much  taken  aback  as  if  he 
had  turned  to  find  a  pistol  at  his  ear.  He  took  his  feet 
off  the  table.  Yet  he  only  saw  the  gypsy's  girlish  figure  in 
its  red  and  green,  for  she  had  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands.  She  was  looking  at  him  intently  between  her  fingers, 
but  he  did  not  know  this.  All  he  did  want  to  know  just 
then  was  what  was  behind  the  hands. 

Before  he  spoke  again  she  had  perhaps  made  up  her 
mind  about  him,  for  she  began  to  sob  bitterly.  At  the 
same  time  she  slipped  a  finger  over  her  ring. 

"Why  don't  you  look  at  me?"  asked  Halliwell,  selfishly. 

"I  daurna." 

"Am  I  so  fearsome?" 

"You're  a  sojer,  and  you  would  shoot  me  like  a  craw." 

Halliwell  laughed,  and,  taking  her  wrists  in  his  hands, 
uncovered  her   face. 

"Oh,  by  Jove!"  he  said  again,  but  this  time  to  himself. 


40  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


As  for  the  Egyptian,  she  slid  the  ring  into  her  pocket, 
and  fell  back  before  the  officer's  magnificence. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,   "is  all  sojers  like  you?" 

There  was  such  admiration  in  her  eyes  that  it  would 
have  been  self-contempt  to  doubt  her.  Yet  having  smiled 
complacently,  Halliwell  became  uneasy. 

"Who  on  earth  are  you  ?"  he  asked,  finding  it  v^^ise  not 
to  look  her  in  the  face.  "Why  do  you  not  answer  me  more 
quickly?" 

"Dinna  be  angry  at  that,  captain,"  the  Egyptian  implored. 
"I  promised  my  mither  aye  to  count  twenty  afore  I  spoke, 
because  she  thocht  I  was  ower  glib.  Captain,  how  is't  that 
you're  so  fleid  to  look  at  me?" 

Thus  put  on  his  mettle,  Halliwell  again  faced  her,  with 
the  result  that  his  question  changed  to  "Where  did  you 
get  those  eyes?"    Then  was  he  indignant  with  himself. 

"What  I  want  to  know,"  he  explained,  severely,  "is  how 
you  were  able  to  acquaint  the  Thrums  people  with  our 
movements  ?  That  you  must  tell  me  at  once,  for  the  sheriff 
blames  my  soldiers.     Come  now,  no  counting  twenty!" 

He  was  pacing  the  room  now,  and  she  had  her  face  to 
herself.  It  said  several  things,  among  them  that  the  officer 
evidently  did  not  like  this  charge  against  his  men. 

"Does  the  shirra  blame  the  sojers?"  exclaimed  this  quick- 
witted Egyptian.  "Weel,  that  cows,  for  he  has  nane  to  blame 
but  himsel'." 

"What!"  cried  Halliwell,  delighted.  "It  was  the  sheriff 
who  told  tales?  Answer  me.  You  are  counting  a  hundred 
this  time." 

Perhaps  the  gypsy  had  two  reasons  for  withholding  her 
answer.  If  so,  one  of  them  was  that,  as  the  sheriff  had 
told  nothing,  she  had  a  story  to  make  up.  The  other 
was  that  she  wanted  to  strike  a  bargain  with  the  officer. 

"If  I  tell  you,"  she  said,  eagerly,  "will  you  set  me  free?" 

"I  may  ask  the  sheriff  to  do  so." 

"But  he  mauna  see  me,"  the  Egyptian  said,  in  distress. 
"There's   reasons,  captain." 

"Why,  surely  you  have  not  been  before  him  on  other 
occasions,"  said  Halliwell,  surprised. 

"No  in  the  way  you  mean,"  muttered  the  gypsy,  and  for 
the  moment  her  eyes  twinkled.  But  the  light  in  them  went 
out  when  she  remembered  that  the  sheriff  was  near,  and 
she  looked  desperately  at  the  window  as  if  ready  to  fling 
herself  from  it.     She  had  very  good  reasons  for  not  wish- 


\ 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  41 

ing  to  be  seen  by  Riach,  though  fear  that  he  would  put 
her  in  gaol   was  not  one  of  them. 

Halliwell  thought  it  was  the  one  cause  of  her  woe,  and 
great  was  his  desire  to  turn  the  tables  on  the  sheriff. 

"Tell  me  the  truth,"  he  said,  "and  I  promise  to  befriend 
you." 

"Weel,  then,"  the  gypsy  said,  hoping  still  to  soften  his 
heart,  and  making  up  her  story  as  she  told  it,  "yestreen 
I  met  the  shirra,  and  he  telled  me  a'  I  hae  telled  the  Thrums 
folk  this  nicht." 

"You  can  scarcely  expect  me  to  believe  that.  Where  did 
you  meet  him?" 

"In    Glen   Quharit)^      He   was   riding   on   a   horse." 

"Well,  I  allow  he  was  there  yesterday,  and  on  horseback. 
He  was  on  his  way  back  to  Tilliedrum  from  Lord  Rintoul's 
place.  But  don't  tell  me  that  he  took  a  gypsy  girl  into 
his  confidence." 

"Ay,  he  did,  without  kenning.  He  was  gieing  his  horse 
a  drink  when  I  met  him,  and  he  let  me  tell  him  his  for- 
tune. He  said  he  would  gaol  me  for  an  impostor  if  I  didna 
tell  him  true,  so  I  gaed  about  it  cautiously,  and  after  a 
minute  or  twa  I  telled  him  he  was  coming  to  Thrums  the 
nicht  to  nab  the  rioters." 

"You  are  trifling  with  me,"  interposed  the  indignant  sol- 
dier. "You  promised  to  tell  me  not  what  you  said  to  the. 
sheriff,   but  how  he  disclosed  our   movements  to  you." 

"And  that's  just  what  I  am  telling  you,  only  you  hinna 
the  rumelgumption  to  see  it.  How  do  you  think  fortunes, 
is  telled?  First  we  get  out  o'  the  man,  without  his  seeing 
what  we're  after,  a'  about  himsel',  and  syne  we  repeat  it 
to  him.     That's  what  I  did  wi'  the  shirra." 

"You  drew  the  whole  thing  out  of  him  without  his 
knowing?" 

"  'Deed  I  did,  and  he  rode  awa'  saying  I  was  a  witch." 

The  soldier  heard  with  the  delight  of  a  schoolboy. 

"Now  if  the  sheriff  does  not  liberate  you  at  my  request," 
he  said,  "I  will  never  let  him  hear  the  end  of  this  story. 
He  was  right;  you  are  a  witch.  You  deceived  the  sheriff;, 
yes,  undoubtedly  you  are  a  witch." 

He  looked  at  her  with  fun  in  his  face,  but  the  fun  dis- 
appeared, and  a  wondering  admiration  took  its  place. 

"By  Jove!"  he  said,  "I  don't  wonder  you  bewitched  the 
sheriff.  I  must  take  care  or  you  will  bewitch  the  captain, 
too." 


42  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

At  this  notion  he  smiled,  but  he  also  ceased  looking  at 
her.     Suddenly  the  Egyptian  again  began  to  cry. 

"You're  angry  wi'  me,"  she  sobbed.  "I  wish  I  had  never 
set  een  on  you." 

"Why  do  you  wish  that?"  Halliwell  asked. 

"Fine  you  ken,"  she  answered,  and  again  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands. 

He  looked  at  her  undecidedly. 

"I  am  not  angry  with  you,"  he  said,  gently.  "You  are 
an  extraordinary  girl." 

Had  he  really  made  a  conquest  of  this  beautiful  creature? 
Her  words  said  so,  but  had  he  ?  The  captain  could  not 
make  up  his  mind.    He  gnawed  his  moustache  in  doubt. 

There  was  silence,  save  for  the  Egyptian's  sobs.  Halli- 
well's  heart  was  touched,  and  he  drew  nearer  her. 

"My  poor  girl — " 

He  stopped.  Was  she  crying?  Was  she  not  laughing  at 
him   rather?     He   became   red. 

The  gypsy  peeped  at  him  between  her  fingers,  and  saw 
that  he  was  of  two  minds.  She  let  her  hands  fall  from  her 
face,  and  undoubtedly  there  were  tears  on  her  cheeks. 

"If  you're  no  angry  wi'  me,"  she  said,  sadly,  "how  will 
you   no   look   at   me  ?" 

"I  am  looking  at  you  now." 

He  was  very  close  to  her,  and  staring  into  her  wonderful 
eyes.  I  am  older  than  the  captain,  and  those  eyes  have 
dazzled  me. 

"Captain   dear." 

She  put  her  hand  in  his.  His  chest  rose.  He  knew  she 
was  seeking  to  beguile  him,  but  he  could  not  take  his  eyes 
off  hers.  He  was  in  a  worse  plight  than  a  woman  listening 
to  the  first  whisper  of  love. 

Now  she  was  further  from  him,  but  the  spell  held.  She 
reached  the  door,  without  taking  her  eyes  from  his  face. 
For  several  seconds  he  had  been  as  a  man  mesmerised. 

Just  in  time  he  came  to.  It  was  when  she  turned  from 
him  to  find  the  handle  of  the  door.  She  was  turning  it 
when  his  hand  fell  on  hers  so  suddenly  that  she  screamed. 
He  twisted  her  round. 

"Sit  down  there,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  pointing  to  the  chair 
upon  which  he  had  flung  his  cloak.  She  dared  not  dis- 
obey. Then  he  leant  against  the  door,  his  back  to  her,  for 
just  then  he  wanted  no  one  to  see  his  face.  The  gypsy  sat 
very  still  and  a  little  frifchtened. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  43 

Halliwell  opened  the  door  presently,  and  called  to  the  sol- 
dier on  duty  below : 

"Davidson,  see  if  you  can  find  the  sheriff.  I  want  him. 
And  Davidson — " 

The  captain  paused. 

"Yes,"  he  muttered,  and  the  old  soldier  marvelled  at  his 
words,  "it  is  better.  Davidson,  lock  this  door  on  the  out- 
side." 

Davidson  did  as  he  was  ordered,  and-  again  the  Elgyptiaii 
was  left  alone  with  Halliwell. 

"Afraid  of  a  woman !"  she  said,  contemptuously,  though 
her  heart  sank  when   she   heard  the  key  turn   in  the   lock. 

"I  admit  it,"  he  answered,  calmly. 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  and  she  sat  silently 
watching  him. 

"That  story  of  yours  about  the  sheriff  was  not  true,"  he 
said  at  last. 

"I  suspect  it  wasna,"  answered  the  Egyptian,  coolly. 
"Hae  you  been  thinking  about  it  a'  this  time  ?  Captain, 
I  could  tell  you  what  you  are  thinking  now.  You're  wish- 
ing it  had  been  true,  so  that  the  ane  o'  you  could  not  lauch 
at  the  other." 

"Silence  \"  said  the  captain,  and  not  another  word  would 
he  speak  until  he  heard  the  sheriff  coming  up  the  stair.  The 
Egyptian  trembled  at  his  step,  and  rose  in  desperation. 

"Why  is  the  door  locked?"  cried  the  sheriff,  shaking  it. 

"All  right,"  answered  Halliwell ;  "the  key  is  on  your 
side." 

At  that  moment  the  Egyptian  knocked  the  lamp  off  the 
table,  and  the  room  was  at  once  in  darkness.  The  officer 
sprang  at  her,  and,  catching  her  by  the  skirt,  held  on. 

"Why  are  j-ou  in  darkness?"  asked  the  sheriff,  as  he 
entered. 

"Shut  the  door,"  cried  Halliwell.     "Put  your  back  to  it." 

"Don't  tell  me  the  woman  has  escaped?" 

"I  have  her !  I  have  her !  She  capsized  the  lamp,  the 
little  jade.     Shut  the  door." 

Still  keeping  firm  hold  of  her,  as  he  thought,  the  cap- 
tain relit  the  lamp  with  his  other  hand.  It  showed  an  ex- 
traordinary scene.  The  door  was  shut,  and  the  sheriff  was 
guarding  it.  Halliwell  was  clutching  the  cloth  of  the  bailie's 
seat.     There  was  no  Egyptian. 

A  moment  passed  before  either  man  found  his  tongue. 

"Open  the  door.     After  her !"  cried  Halliwell. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


But  the  door  would  not  open.  The  Egyptian  had  fled,  and 
locked  it  behind  her. 

What  the  two  men  said  to  each  other,  it  would  not  be 
fitting  to  tell.  When  Davidson,  who  had  been  gossiping  at 
the  corner  of  the  town-house,  released  his  captain  and  the 
sheriff,  the  gypsy  had  been  gone  for  some  minutes. 

"But  she  sha'n't  escape  us,"  Riach  cried,  and  hastened  out 
to  assist  in  the  pursuit. 

Halliwell  was  in  such  a  furious  temper  that  he  called  up 
Davidson,  and  admonished  him  for  neglect  of  duty. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THREE   A.   M. MONSTROUS   AUDACITY   OF   THE  WOMAN. 

Not  till  the  stroke  of  three  did  Gavin  turn  homeward, 
mth  the  legs  of  a  ploughman,  and  eyes  rebelling  against 
overwork.  Seeking  to  comfort  his  dejected  people,  whose 
courage  lay  spilt  on  the  brae,  he  had  been  in  as  many 
houses  as  the  policemen.  The  soldiers  marching  through 
the  wynds  came  frequently  upon  him,  and  found  it  hard 
to  believe  that  he  was  always  the  same  one.  They  told 
afterwards  that  Thrums  was  remarkable  for  the  ferocity 
of  its  women,  and  the  number  of  its  little  ministers.  The 
morning  was  nipping  cold,  and  the  streets  were  deserted,  for 
the  people  had  been  ordered  within  doors.  As  he  crossed 
the  Roods,  Gavin  saw  a  gleam  of  redcoats.  In  the  back 
wynd  he  heard  a  bugle  blown.  A  stir  in  the  Banker's  close 
spoke  of  another  seizure.  At  the  top  of  the  school  wynd 
two  policemen,  of  whom  one  was  Wearyworld,  stopped  the 
minister  with  the  flash  of  a  lantern. 

"We  dauredna  let  you  pass,  sir,"  the  Tilliedrum  man 
said,  "without  a  good  look  at  you.     That's  the  orders." 

"I  hereby  swear,"  said  Wearyworld,  authoritatively,  "that 
this  is  no  the  Egyptian.  Signed,  Peter  Spens,  policeman, 
called  by  the  vulgar  Wearyworld.  Mr.  Dishart,  you  can 
pass,   unless  you'll  bide  a  wee  and  gie  us  your  crack." 

"You  have  not  found  the  gypsy,  then?"  Gavin  asked. 

"No."  the  other  policeman  said,  "but  we  ken  she's  within 
cry  o'  this  very  spot,  and  escape  she  canna." 

"What  mortal  man  can  do,"  Wearyworld  said,  "we're 
doing;   ay,   and   mair,  but  she's  auld   wecht,  and  may  find 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  45 


bilbie  in  queer  places.  Mr.  Dishart,  my  official  opinion  is 
that  this  Eg-yptian  is  fearsomely  like  my  snuff-spoon.  I've 
kent  me  drap  that  spoon  on  the  fender,  and  be  beat  to 
find  it  in  an  hour.  And  yet,  a'  the  time  I  was  sure  it  was 
there.  This  is  a  gey  mysterious  world,  and  women's  the 
uncanniest  things  in't.  It's  hardly  mous  to  think  how  un- 
canny they  are." 

"This  one  deserves  to  be  punished,"  Gavin  said,  firmly; 
"she  incited  the  people  to  riot." 

"She  did,"  agreed  Wearyworld,  who  was  supping  raven- 
ously on  sociability;  "ay,  she  even  tried  her  tricks  on  me, 
so  that  them  that  kens  no  better  thinks  she  fooled  me.  But 
she's  cracky.  To  gie  her  her  due,  she's  cracky,  and  as  for 
her  being  a  cuttie,  you've  said  yoursel',  Mr.  Dishart,  that 
we're  all  desperately  wicked.  But  we're  sair  tried.  Has  it 
ever  struck  you  that  the  trouts  bites  best  on  the  Sabbath? 
God's  critturs  tempting  decent  men." 

"Come  alang,"  cried  the  Tilliedrum  man,  impatiently. 

"I'm  coming,  but  I  maun  give  Mr.  Dishart  permission  to 
pass  first.  Hae  you  heard,  Mr.  Dishart,"  Wearyworld  whis- 
pered, "that  the  Egyptian  diddled  baith  the  captain  and  the 
shirra?  It's  my  official  opinion  that  she's  no  better  than  a 
roasted  onion,  the  which,  if  you  grip  it  firm,  jumps  out  o' 
sicht,  leaving  its  coat  in  your  fingers.  Mr.  Dishart,  you 
can  pass." 

The  policeman  turned  down  the  school  wynd,  and  Gavin, 
who  had  already  heard  exaggerated  accounts  of  the  strange 
woman's  escape  from  the  tov/n-house,  proceeded  along  the 
Tenements.  He  walked  in  the  black  shadows  of  the  houses, 
though  across  the  way  there  was  the  morning  light. 

In  talking  of  the  gypsy,  the  little  minister  had,  as  it  were, 
put  on  the  black  cap ;  but  now,  even  though  he  shook  his 
head  angrily  with  every  thought  of  her,  the  scene  in 
Windyghoul  glimmered  before  his  eyes.  Sometimes  when 
he  meant  to  frown  he  only  sighed,  and  then  having  sighed 
he  shook  himself.  He  was  unpleasantly  conscious  of  his 
right  hand,  which  had  flung  the  divit.  Ah,  she  was  shame- 
less, and  it  would  be  a  bright  day  for  Thrums  that  saw 
the  last  of  her.  He  hoped  the  policemen  would  succeed 
in —  It  was  the  gladsomeness  of  innocence  that  he  had 
seen  dancing  in  the  moonlight.  A  mere  woman  could  not 
be  like  that.  How  soft —  And  she  had  derided  him;  he, 
the  Auld  Licht  minister  of  Thrums,  had  been  flouted  before 
his   people   by   a   hussy.      She   was   without   reverence,   she 


46  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

knew  no  difference  between  an  Auld  Licht  minister,  whose 
duty  it  was  to  speak  and  hers  to  Hsten,  and  herself.  This 
woman  deserved  to  be — ■  And  the  look  she  cast  behind 
her  as  she  danced  and  sang !  It  was  sweet,  so  wistful ;  the 
presence  of  purity  had  silenced  him.  Purity !  Who  had 
made  him  fling  that  divit?  He  would  think  no  more  of  her. 
Let  it  suffice  that  he  knew  what  she  was.  He  would  put 
her  from  his  thoughts.     Was  it  a  ring  on  her  finger? 

Fifty  yards  in  front  of  him  Gavin  saw  the  road  end  in 
a  wall  of  soldiers.  They  were  between  him  and  the  manse, 
and  he  was  still  in  darkness.  No  sound  reached  him,  save 
the  echo  of  his  own  feet.  But  was  it  an  echo?  He  stopped, 
and  turned  round  sharply.  Now  he  heard  nothing,  he  saw 
nothing.  Yet  was  not  that  a  human  figure  standing  motion- 
less   in   the   shadow   behind? 

He  walked  on,  and  again  heard  the  sound.  Again  he 
looked  behind,  but  this  time  without  stopping.  The  figure 
was  following  him.  He  stopped.  So  did  it.  He  turned 
back,  but  it  did  not  move.     It  was  the  Egyptian ! 

Gavin  knew  her,  despite  the  lane  of  darkness,  despite 
the  long  cloak  that  now  concealed  even  her  feet,  despite 
the  hood  over  her  head.  She  was  looking  quite  respectable, 
but  he  knew  her. 

He  neither  advanced  to  her  nor  retreated.  Could  the 
unhappy  girl  not  see  that  she  was  walking  into  the  arms 
of  the  soldiers?  But  doubtless  she  had  been  driven  from 
all  her  hiding-places.  For  a  moment  Gavin  had  it  in  his 
heart  to  warn  her.  But  it  was  only  for  a  moment.  The 
next  a  sudden  horror  shot  through  him.  She  was  stealing 
towards  him,  so  softly  that  he  had  not  seen  her  start.  The 
woman  had  designs  on  him !  Gavin  turned  from  her.  He 
walked  so  quickly  that  judges  would  have  said  he  ran. 

The  soldiers,  I  have  said,  stood  in  the  dim  light.  Gavin 
had  almost  reached  them,  when  a  little  hand  touched  his 
arm. 

"Stop,"  cried  the  sergeant,  hearing  some  one  approach- 
ing, and  then  Gavin  stepped  out  of  the  darkness  with  the 
gypsy  on  his  arm. 

"It  is  you,  Mr.  Dishart,"  said  the  sergeant,  "and  your 
lady?" 

"I — "  said  Gavin. 

His  lady  pinched  his  arm. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  in  an  elegant  English  voice  that 
made  Gavin  stare  at  her,  "but,  indeed,  I  am  sorry  I  ven- 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  47 


tured  into  the  streets  to-night.  I  thought  I  might  be  able 
to  comfort  some  of  these  unhappy  people,  captain,  but  I 
could  do  little,  sadly  little." 

•"It  is  no  scene  for  a  lady,  ma'am,  but  your  husband 
has —     Did  you  speak,  Mr.  Dishart?" 

"Yes,  I  must  inf — " 

"My  dear,"  said  the  Egyptian,  "I  quite  agree  with  you, 
so  we  need  not  detain  the  captain." 

"I'm  only  a  sergeant,  ma'am." 

"Indeed !"  said  the  Egyptian,  raising  her  pretty  eyebrows, 
"and   how  long   are   you   to   remain   in   Thrums,   sergeant?" 

"Only  for  a  few  hours,  Mrs.  Dishart.  If  this  gypsy 
lassie  had  not  given  us  so  much  trouble,  we  might  have 
been  gone  by  now." 

"Ah,  yes,  I  hope  you  will  catch  her,  sergeant." 

"Sergeant,"  said  Gavin,  firmly,  "I  must — " 

"You  must  indeed,  dear,"  said  the  Egyptian,  "for  you 
are  sadly  tired.     Good  night,  sergeant." 

"Your  servant,  Mrs.  Dishart.     Your  servant,  sir." 

"But — "   cried  Gavin. 

"Come,  love,"  said  the  Egyptian,  and  she  walked  the 
distracted  minister  through  the  soldiers,  and  up  the  manse 
road. 

The  soldiers  left  behind,  Gavin  flung  her  arm  from  him, 
and,  standing  still,  shook  his  fist  in  her  face. 

"You — you — woman  !"   he   said. 

This,  I  think,  was  the  last  time  he  called  her  a  woman. 

But  she  was  clapping  her  hands  merrily. 

"It   was    beautiful !"    she   exclaimed. 

"It  was  iniquitous!"  he  answered.     "And  I  a  minister!" 

"You  can't  help  that,"  said  the  Egyptian,  who  pitied  all 
ministers  heartily. 

"No,"  Gavin  said,  misunderstanding  her.  "I  could  not 
help  it.     No  blame  attaches  to  me." 

"I  meant  that  you  could  not  help  being  a  minister.  You 
could  have  helped  saving  me,  and  I  thank  you  so  much." 

"Do  not  dare  to  thank  me.  I  forbid  you  to  say  that  I 
saved  you.    I  did  my  best  to  hand  you  over  to  the  authorities." 

"Then  why  did  you  not  hand  me  over?" 

Gavin  groaned. 

"All  you  had  to  say,"  continued  the  merciless  Egyptian, 
"was,  'This  is  the  person  you  are  in  search  of.'  I  did  not 
have  my  hand  over  your  mouth.    Why  did  you  not  say  it?" 

"Forbear !"  said  Gavin,  wofully. 


48  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"It  must  have  been,"  the  gypsy  said,  "because  you  really 
wanted  to  help  me." 

"Then  it  was  against  my  better  judgment,"  said  Gavin. 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  the  gypsy.  "Mr.  Dishart,  I  do 
believe  you  like  me  all  the  time." 

"Can  a  man  like  a  woman  against  his  will?"  Gavin 
blurted  out. 

"Of  course  he  can,"  said  the  Egyptian,  speaking  as  one 
who  knew.     "That  is  the  very  nicest  way  to  be  liked." 

Seeing  how  agitated  Gavin  was,  remorse  filled  her,  and 
she  said,  in  a  wheedling  voice: 

"It  is  all  over,  and  no  one  will  know." 

Passion  sat  on  the  minister's  brow,  but  he  said  nothing, 
for  the  gypsy's  face  had  changed  with  her  voice,  and  the 
audacious  woman  was  become  a  child. 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  she  said,  as  if  he  had  caught  her 
stealing  jam.  The  hood  had  fallen  back,  and  she  looked 
pleadingly  at  him.  She  had  the  appearance  of  one  who  was 
entirely  in  his  hands. 

There  was  a  torrent  of  words  in  Gavin,  but  only  these 
trickled  forth : 

"I    don't   understand   you." 

"You   are   not  angry  any  more?"   pleaded   the  Egyptian. 

"Angry !"  he  cried,  with  the  righteous  rage  of  one  who, 
tvhen  his  leg  is  being  sawn  ofif,  is  askedgently  if  it  hurtshim. 

"I  know  you  are,"  she  sighed,  and  the  sigh  meant  that 
men  are  strange. 

"Have  you  no  respect  for  law  and  order?"  demanded 
Gavin. 

"Not  much,"  she  answered,  honestly. 

He  looked  down  the  road  to  where  the  redcoats  were  still 
visible,  and  his  face  became  hard.     She  read  his  thoughts. 

"No,"  she  said,  becoming  a  woman  again,  "it  is  not  yet 
too  late.     Why  don't  you  shout  to  them?" 

"I  do  not  understand  you,"  Gavin  repeated,  weakly,  and 
the  gypsy  bent  her  head  under  this  terrible  charge. 

"Only  a  few  hours  ago,"  he  continued,  "you  were  a  gypsy 
girl  in  a  fantastic  dress,  baiefooted — '' 

The  Egyptian's  bare  foot  at  once  peeped  out  mischievously 
from  beneath  the  cloak,  then  again  retired  into  hiding. 

"You  spoke  as  broadly,"  complained  the  minister,  some- 
what taken  aback  by  this  apparition,  "as  any  woman  in 
Thrums,  and  now  you  fling  a  cloak  over  your  shoulders,  and 
immediately  become  a  fine  lady.    Who  are  you?" 


THE  LITTLE  ^IINISTER  49 

"Perhaps,"  answered  the  Egyptian,  "it  is  the  cloak  that 
has  bewitched  me."  She  slipped  out  of  it.  "Ay,  ay,  ou 
losh  !"  she  said,  as  if  surprised,  "it  was  just  the  cloak  that 
did  it,  for  now  I'm  a  puir  ignorant  bit  lassie  again.  My, 
certie,  but  claithes  does  make  a  differ  to  a  woman !" 

This  was  sheer  levity,  and  Gavin  walked  scornfully  away 
from  it. 

"Yet,  if  you  will  not  tell  me  who  you  are,"  he  said,  look- 
ing over  his  shoulder,  "tell  me  where  you  got  the  cloak." 

"Na  faags,"  replied  the  gypsy  out  of  the  cloak.  "Really, 
Mr.  Dishart,  you  had  better  not  ask,"  she  added,  replacing 
it  over  her. 

She  followed  him,  meaning  to  gain  the  open  by  the  fields 
to  the  north  of  the  manse. 

"Good-bye,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand,  "if  you  are 
not  to  give  me  up." 

"I  am  not  a  policeman,"  replied  Gavin,  but  he  would  not 
take  her  hand. 

"Surely,  we  part  friends,  then?"  said  the  Egyptian,  sweetly. 

"No,"  Gavin  answered.  "I  hope  never  to  see  your  face 
again." 

"I  cannot  help,"  the  Egyptian  said,  with  dignity,  "your  not 
liking  my  face."  Then,  with  less  dignity,  she  added,  "There 
is  a  splotch  of  mud  on  your  own,  little  minister;  it  came  off 
the  divit  you  flung  at  the  captain." 

With  this  parting  shot  she  tripped  past  him,  and  Gavin 
would  not  let  his  eyes  follow  her. 

Margaret  was  at  her  window,  looking  for  him,  and  he  saw 
her,  though  she  did  not  see  him.  He  was  stepping  into  the 
middle  of  the  road  to  wave  his  hand  to  her,  when  some 
sudden  weakness  made  him  look  towards  the  fields  instead. 
The  Egyptian  saw  him  and  nodded  thanks  for  his  interest 
in  her,  but  he  scowled  and  pretended  to  be  studying  the  sky. 
Next  moment  he  saw  her  running  back  to  him. 

"There  are  soldiers  at  the  top  of  the  field,"  she  cried.  "I 
cannot  escape  that  way." 

"There  is  no  other  way,"  Gavin  answered. 

"Will  you  not  help  me  again?"  she  entreated. 

She  should  not  have  said  "again."  Gavin  shook  his  head, 
but  pulled  her  closer  to  the  manse  dyke,  for  his  mother 
was  still  in  sight. 

"Why  do  you  do  that?"  the  girl  asked,  quickly,  looking 
round  to  see  if  she  were  pursued.  "Oh,  I  see,"  she  said,  as 
her  eyes  fell  on  the  figure  at  the  window. 


50  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"It  is  my  mother,"  Gavin  said,  though  he  need  not  have 
explained,  unless  he  wanted  the  gypsy  to  know  that  he  was  a 
bachelor. 

"Only  your  mother?" 

"Only !  Let  me  tell  you  she  may  suffer  more  than  you 
for  your  behaviour  to-night !" 

"How  can  she?" 

"If  you  are  caught,  will  it  not  be  discovered  that  I  helped 
you  to  escape?" 

"But  you  said  you  did  not." 

"Yes,  I  helped  you,"  Gavin  admitted.  "My  God!  what 
would  my  congregation  say  if  they  knew  I  had  let  you  pass 
yourself  off  as — as  my  wife?" 

He  struck  his  brow,  and  the  Egyptian  had  the  propriety 
to  blush. 

"It  is  not  the  punishment  from  men  I  am  afraid  of," 
Gavin  said,  bitterly,  "but  from  my  conscience.  No,  that  is 
not  true.  I  do  fear  exposure,  but  for  my  mother's  sake. 
Look  at  her ;  she  is  happy,  because  she  thinks  me  good  and 
true;  she  has  had  such  trials  as  you  cannot  know  of,  and 
now,  when  at  last  I  seemed  able  to  do  sometliing  for  her,  you 
destroy  her  happiness.     You  have  her  life  in  your  hands." 

The  Egyptian  turned  her  back  upon  him,  and  one  of  her 
feet  tapped  angrily  on  the  dry  ground.  Then,  child  of  im- 
pulse as  she  always  was,  she  flashed  an  indignant  glance  at 
him,  and  walked  quickly  down  the  road. 

"Where  are  you  going  ?"  he  cried. 

"To  give  myself  up.  You  need  not  be  alarmed ;  I  will  clear 
you." 

There  was  not  a  shake  in  her  voice,  and  she  spoke  without 
looking  back. 

"Stop!"  Gavin  called,  but  she  would  not,  until  his  hand 
touched  her  shoulder. 

"What  do  you  want?"  she  asked. 

"Why — "  whispered  Gavin,  giddily,  "why — why  do  you  not 
hide  in  the  manse  garden?     No  one  will  look  for  you  there." 

There  were  genuine  tears  in  the  gypsy's  eyes  now. 

"You  are  a  good  man,'    she  said;  "I  like  you." 

"Don't  say  that,"  Gavin  cried,  in  horror.  "There  is  a  sum- 
mer-seat in  the  garden." 

Then  he  hurried  from  her,  and,  without  looking  to  see  if 
she  took  his  advice,  hastened  to  the  manse.  Once  inside,  he 
snibbed  the  door. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  51 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   WOMAN    CONSIDERED    IN    ABSENCE ADVENTURES    OF    A 

MILITARY   CLOAK. 

About  six  o'clock  Margaret  sat  up  suddenly  in  bed,  with 
the  conviction  that  she  had  slept  in.  To  her  this  was  to  ravel 
the  day:  a  dire  thing.  The  last  time  it  happened  Gavin, 
softened  by  her  distress,  had  condensed  morning  worship 
into  a  sentence  that  she  might  make  up  on  the  clock. 

Her  part  on  waking  was  merely  to  ring  her  bell,  and  so 
rouse  Jean,  for  Margaret  had  given  Gavin  a  promise  to 
breakfast  in  bed,  and  remain  there  till  her  fire  was  lit.  Accus- 
tomed all  her  life,  however,  to  early  rising,  her  feet  were 
usually  on  the  floor  before  she  remembered  her  vow,  and 
then  it  was  but  a  step  to  the  window  to  survey  the  morning. 
To  Margaret,  who  seldom  went  out,  the  weather  was  not  of 
great  moment,  while  it  mattered  much  to  Gavin,  yet  she  al- 
ways thought  of  it  the  first  thing,  and  he  not  at  all  until 
he  had  to  decide  whether  his  companion  should  be  an  um- 
brella or  a  staff. 

On  this  morning  Margaret  only  noticed  that  there  had  been 
rain  since  Gavin  came  in.  Forgetting  that  the  water  ob- 
scuring the  outlook  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  panes,  she 
tried  to  brush  it  away  with  her  fist.  It  was  of  the  soldiers 
she  was  thinking.  They  might  have  been  awaiting  her  ap- 
pearance at  the  window  as  their  signal  to  depart,  for  hardly 
had  she  raised  the  blind  when  they  began  their  march  out 
of  Thrums.  From  the  manse  she  could  not  see  them,  but 
she  heard  them,  and  she  saw  some  people  at  the  Tenements 
run  to  their  houses  at  sound  of  the  drum.  Other  persons,  less 
timid,  followed  the  enemy  with  execrations  half  way  to 
Tilliedrum.  Margaret,  the  only  person,  as  it  happened,  then 
awake  in  the  manse,  stood  listening  for  some  time.  In  the 
summer-seat  of  the  garden,  howcA^er,  there  was  another 
listener  protected  from  her  sight  by  thin  spars. 

Margaret  opened  Gavin's  door  to  stand  and  look,  for  she 
was  fearful  of  awakening  him  after  his  heavy  night.  Even 
before  she  saw  that  he  still  slept  she  noticed  with  surprise 
that,  for  the  first  time  since  he  came  to  Thrums,  he  had  put 
on  his  shutters.  She  concluded  that  he  had  done  this  lest 
the  light  should  rouse  him.  He  was  not  sleeping  pleasantly, 
for   now  he  put  his  open  hand  before  his    face,   as   if  to 


52  THE  LITTLE  :MINISTER 

guard  himself,  and  again  he  frowned  and  seemed  to  draw 
back  from  something.  He  pointed  his  finger  sternly  to  the 
north,  ordering  the  weavers,  his  mother  thought,  to  return  to 
their  homes,  and  then  he  muttered  to  himself  so  that  she 
heard  the  words,  '"And  if  thy  right  hand  offend  thee  cut  it 
off,  and  cast  it  from  thee,  for  it  is  profitable  for  thee  that 
one  of  thy  members  should  perish,  and  not  that  thy  whole 
body  should  be  cast  into  hell."  Then  suddenly  he  bent  for- 
ward, his  eyes  open  and  fixed  on  the  window.  Thus  he  sat, 
for  the  space  of  half  a  minute,  like  one  listening  with  pain- 
ful intentness.  When  he  lay  back  Margaret  slipped  away. 
She  knew  he  was  living  the  night  over  again,  but  not  of  the 
divit  his  right  hand  had  cast,  nor  of  the  woman  in  the 
garden. 

Gavin  was  roused  presently  by  the  sound  of  voices  from 
Margaret's  room,  where  Jean,  who  had  now  gathered  much 
news,  was  giving  it  to  her  mistress.  Jean's  cheerfulness 
would  have  told  him  that  her  father  was  safe  had  he  not 
wakened  to  thoughts  of  the  Egyptian.  I  suppose  he  was  at 
the  window  in  an  instant,  unsnibbing  the  shutters  and  look- 
ing out  as  cautiously  as  a  burglar  might  have  looked  in. 
The  Egyptian  was  gone  from  the  summer-seat.  He  drew  a 
great  breath. 

But  his  troubles  were  not  over.  He  had  just  lifted  his 
ewer  of  water  when  these  words  from  the  kitchen  capsized 
it: 

"Ay,  an  Egyptian.  That's  what  the  auld  folk  call  a 
gypsy.  Weel,  Mrs.  Dishart  she  led  police  and  sojers  sic  a 
dance  through  Thrums  as  would  baffle  description,  though  I 
kent  the  fits  and  fors  o't  as  I  dinna.  Ay,  but  they  gripped 
her  in  the  end,  and  the  queer  thing  is — " 

Gavin  listened  to  no  more.  He  suddenly  sat  down.  The 
queer  thing,  of  course,  was  that  she  had  been  caught  in  his 
garden.  Yes,  and  doubtless  queerer  things  about  this  hussj 
and  her  "husband"  were  being  bawled  from  door  to  door. 
To  the  girl's  probable  sufferings  he  gave  no  heed.  What 
kind  of  man  had  he  been  a  few  hours  ago  to  yield  to  the 
machinations  of  a  womrn  who  was  so  obviously  the  devil? 
Now  he  saw  his  folly  in  the  face. 

The  tray  in  Jean's  hands  clattered  against  the  dresser,  and 
Gavin  sprang  from  his  chair.  He  thought  it  was  his  elders 
at  the  front  door. 

In  the  parlour  he  found  Margaret  sorrowing  for  those 
whose  mates  had  been  torn  from  them,  and  Jean  with  a  face 


THE  LITTLE  IVHNISTER  53 

flushed  by  talk.  On  ordinary  occasions  the  majesty  of  the 
minister  still  cowed  Jean,  so  that  she  could  only  gaze  at 
him  without  shaking  when  in  church,  and  then  because  she 
wore  a  veil.  In  the  manse  he  was  for  taking  a  glance  at 
sideways  and  then  going  away  comforted,  as  a  respectable 
woman  may  once  or  twice  in  a  day  look  at  her  brooch  in  the 
pasteboard  box  as  a  means  of  helping  her  with  her  work. 
But  with  such  a  to-do  in  Thrums,  and  she  the  possessor  of 
exclusive  information,  Jean's  reverence  for  Gavin  only  took 
her  to-day  as  far  as  the  door,  where  she  lingered  half  in  the 
parlour  and  half  in  the  lobby,  her  eyes  turned  politely  from 
the  minister,  but  her  ears  his  entirely. 

"I  thought  I  heard  Jean  telling  you  about  the  capture  of 
the — of  an  Egyptian  woman,"  Gavin  said  to  his  mother, 
nervously. 

"Did  you  cry  to  me?"  Jean  asked,  turning  round  long- 
ingly. "But  maybe  the  mistress  will  tell  you  about  the 
Egyptian  hersel'." 

"Has  she  been  taken  to  Tilliedrum?"  Gavin  asked,  in  a 
hollow  voice. 

"Sup  up  your  porridge,  Gavin,"  Margaret  said.  "I'll  have 
no  speaking  about  this  terrible  night  till  you've  eaten  some- 
thing." 

"I  have  no  appetite,"  the  minister  replied,  pushing  his 
plate  from  him.     "Jean,  answer  me." 

"  'Deed,  then,"  said  Jean,  willingly,  "they  hinna  ta'en  her 
to  Tilliedrum." 

"For  what  reason?"  asked  Gavin,  his  dread  increasing. 

"For  the  reason  that  they  couldna  catch  her,"  Jean 
answered.  "She  spirited  hersel'  awa',  the  magerful  crit- 
tur." 

"What !     But  I  heard  you  say—" 

"Ay,  they  had  her  aince,  but  they  couldna  keep  her.  It's 
like  a  witch  story.  They  had  her  safe  in  the  town-house, 
and  baith  shirra  and  captain  guarding  her,  and  syne  in  a 
clink  she  wasna  there.  A'  nicht  they  looked  for  her,  but 
she  hadna  left  so  muckle  as  a  foot-print  ahint  her,  and  in 
the  tail  of  the  day  they  had  to  up  wi'  their  tap  in  their 
lap  and  march  awa  without  her." 

Gavin's  appetite  returned. 

"Has  she  been  seen  since  the  soldiers  went  away?"  he 
asked,  laying  down  his  spoon  with  a  new  fear.  "Where 
is  she  now?" 

"No  human  eye  has   seen  her,"   Jean  answered,   impres- 


54.  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


sively.  "Whaur  is  she  now?  Whaur  does  the  flies  vanish  to 
in  winter  ?     We  ken  they're  some  gait,  but  whaur  ?" 

''But  what  are  the  people  saying  about  her?" 

"Daft  things,"  said  Jean.  "Old  Charles  Yuill  gangs  the 
length  o'  hinting  that  she's  dead  and  buried." 

"She  could  not  have  buried  herself,  Jean/'  Margaret  said, 
mildly. 

"I  dinna  ken.     Charles  says  she's  even  capable  o'  that." 

Then  Jean  retired  reluctantly  (but  leaving  the  door  ajar) 
and  Gavin  fell  to  on  his  porridge.  He  was  now  so  cheerful 
that  Alargaret  wondered. 

"If  half  the  stories  about  this  gypsy  be  true,"  she  said, 
"she  must  be  more  than  a  mere  woman." 

"Less,  you  mean,  mother,"  Gavin  said,  with  conviction. 
"She  is  a  woman,  and  a  sinful  one." 

"Did  you  see  her,  Gavin?" 

"I  saw  her.    Mother,  she  flouted  me!" 

"The  daring  tawpie  !"  exclaimed  Margaiet. 

"She  is  all  that,"  said  the  minister. 

"Was  she  dressed  just  like  an  ordinary  gypsy  body?  But 
you  don't  notice  clothes  much,  Gavin." 

"I  noticed  hers,"  Gavin  said,  slowly,  "she  was  in  a  green 
and  red,  I  think,  and  barefooted." 

"Ay,"  shouted  Jean  from  the  kitchen,  startling  both  of 
them ;  "but  she  had  a  lang  gray-like  cloak,  too.  She  was  seen 
jouking  up  closes  in't." 

Gavin  rose,  considerably  annoyed,  and  shut  the  parlour 
door. 

"Was  she  as  bonny  as  folks  say?"  asked  Margaret.  "Jean 
says  they  speak  of  her  beauty  as  unearthly." 

"Beauty  of  her  kind,"  Gavin  explained  learnedly,  "is 
neither  earthly  nor  heavenly."  He  was  seeing  things  as  they 
are  very  clearly  now.  "What,"  he  said,  "is  mere  physical 
beauty?     Pooh!" 

"And  yet,"  said  Margaret,  "the  soul  surely  does  speak 
through  the  face  to  some  extent." 

"Do  you  really  think  so,  mother?*'  Gavin  asked,  a  little 
uneasily. 

"I  have  always  noticed  it,"  Margaret  said,  and  then  her 
son   sighed. 

"But  I  would  let  no  face  influence  me  a  jot,"  he  said,  re- 
covering. 

"Ah,  Gavin,  I'm  thinking  I'm  the  reason  you  pay  so  little 
regard  to  women's  faces.     It's  no  natural." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  55 

"You've  spoilt  me,  you  see,  mother,  for  ever  caring  for 
another  woman.  I  would  compare  her  to  you,  and  then 
where  would   she   be  ?" 

"Sometime,"  Margaret  said,  "you'll  think  differently." 

"Never,"  answered  Gavin,  with  a  violence  that  ended  the 
conversation. 

Soon  afterwards  he  set  off  for  the  town,  and  in  passing 
down  the  garden  walk  cast  a  guilty  glance  at  the  summer- 
seat.  Something  black  was  lying  in  one  corner  of  it.  He 
stopped  irresolutely,  for  his  mother  was  nodding  to  him 
from  her  window.  Then  he  disappeared  into  the  little 
arbour.  What  had  caught  his  eye  was  a  Bible.  On  the 
previous  day,  as  he  now  remembered,  he  had  been  called 
away  while  studying  in  the  garden,  and  had  left  his  Bible  on 
the  summ:r-seat,  a  pencil  between  its  pages.  Not  often  prob- 
ably had  the  Egyptian  passed  a  night  in  such  company. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FIRST    SERMON    AGAINST    WOMEN. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  following  Sabbath,  as  I  have 
said,  something  strange  happened  in  the  Auld  Licht  pulpit. 
The  congregation,  despite  their  troubles,  turned  it  over  and 
peered  at  it  for  days,  but  had  they  seen  into  the  inside 
of  it,  they  would  have  v^-eaved  few  webs  until  the  session 
had  sat  on  the  minister.  The  affair  baffled  me  at  the  time, 
and  for  the  Egyptian's  sake  I  would  avoid  mentioning  it 
now,  were  it  not  one  of  Gavin's  milestones.  It  includes 
the  first  of  his  memorable  sermons  against  Woman. 

I  was  not  in  the  Auld  Licht  church  that  day,  but  I  heard 
of  the  sermon  before  night,  and  this,  I  think,  is  as  good  an 
opportunity  as  another  for  showing  how  the  gossip  about 
Gavin  reached  me  up  here  in  the  Glen  schoolhouse.  Since 
Margaret  and  her  son  came  to  the  manse,  I  had  kept  the 
vow  made  to  myself,  and  avoided  Thrums.  Only  once  had 
I  ventured  to  the  kirk,  and  then,  instead  of  taking  my  old 
seat,  the  fourth  from  the  pulpit,  I  sat  down  near  the  plate, 
where  I  could  look  at  Margaret  without  her  seeing  me.  To 
spare  her  that  agonj^  I  even  stole  away  as  the  last  word  of 
the  benediction  was  pronounced,  and  my  haste  scandalised 


56  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


many,  for,  with  Auld  Lichts,  it  is  not  customary  to  retire 
quickly  from  the  church  after  the  manner  of  the  godless 
U.  P.'s  (and  the  Free  Kirk  is  little  better),  who  have  their 
hats  in  their  hand  when  they  rise  for  the  benediction,  so 
that  they  may  at  once  pour  out  like  a  burst  dam.  We  resume 
our  seats,  look  straight  before  us,  clear  our  throats,  and 
stretch  out  our  hands  for  our  womenfolk  to  put  our  hats 
into  them.     In  time  we  do  get  out,  but  I  am  never  sure  how. 

On  the  Sabbath  evening  after  the  riot,  I  stood  at  the 
usual  place  awaiting  my  friends,  and  saw,  before  they 
reached  me,  that  they  had  something  untoward  to  tell.  The 
farmer,  his  wife  and  three  children,  holding  each  other's 
hands,  stretched  across  the  road.  Birse  was  a  little  behind, 
but  a  conversation  was  being  kept  up  by  shouting.  All  were 
walking  the  Sabbath  pace,  and  the  family  having  started  half 
a  minute  in  advance,  the  post  had  not  yet  made  up  on  them. 

"It's  sitting  to  snaw,"  Waster  Lunny  said,  drawing  near ; 
and  just  as  I  was  to  reply,  "It  is  so,"  Silva  slipped  in  the 
words  before  me. 

"You  wasna  at  the  kirk,"  was  Elspeth's  salutation.  I 
had  been  at  the  Glen  church,  but  did  not  contradict  her, 
for  it  is  Established,  and  so  neither  here  nor  there.  I  was 
anxious,  too,  to  know  what  their  long  faces  meant,  and 
so  asked  at  once : 

"Was  Mr.  Dishart  on  the  riot  ?" 

"Forenoon,  ay;  afternoon,  no,"  replied  Waster  Lunny, 
walking  round  his  wife  to  get  nearer  me.  "Dominie,  a 
queery  thing  happened  in  the  kirk  this  day,  sic  as — " 

"Waster  Lunny,"  interrupted  Elspeth,  sharply ;  "have  you 
on  your  Sabbath  shoon  or  have  you  no  on  your  Sabbath 
shoon  ?" 

"Guid  care  you  took  I  should  hae  the  dagont  oncanny 
things  on,"  retorted  the  farmer. 

"Keep  out  o'  the  gutter,  then,"  said  Elspeth,  "on  the  Lord's 
day." 

"Him,"  said  her  man,  "that  is  forced  by  a  foolish  woman 
to  wear  genteel  'lastic-sided  boots  canna  forget  them  till  he 
takes  them  aff.  Whaur's  the  extra  reverence  in  wearing 
shoon  twa  sizes  ower  sma?" 

"It  mayna  be  mair  reverent,"  suggested  Birse,  to  whom 
Elspeth's  kitchen  was  a  pleasant  place,  "but  it's  grand,  and 
you  canna  expect  to  be  baith  grand  and  comfortable." 

I  reminded  them  that  they  were  speaking  of  Mr.  Dishart. 

"We  was  saying,"  began  the  post,  briskly,  "that — " 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  57 

"^It  was  me  that  was  saying  it,"  said  Waster  Lunny.  "So, 
dominie — " 

"Hand  your  gabs,  baith  o'  you,"  interrupted  Elspeth. 
"You've  been  roaring  the  story  to  ane  another  till  you're 
hoarse." 

"In  the  forenoon,"  Waster  Lunny  went  on,  determinedly, 
"Mr.  Dishart  preached  on  the  riot,  and  fine  he  was.  Oh, 
dominie,  you  should  hae  heard  him  ladling  it  on  to  Lang 
Tammas,  no  by  name  but  in  sic  a  way  that  there  was  no  mis- 
taking wha  he  was  preaching  at.  Sal !  oh,  losh !  Tammas 
got  it  strong." 

"But  he's  dull  in  the  uptake,"  broke  in  the  post,  "by  what 
I  expected.  I  spoke  to  him  after  the  sermon,  and  I  says, 
just  to  see  if  he  was  properly  humbled,  'Ay,  Tammas,'  I  says, 
'them  that  discourse  was  preached  against  winna  think  them- 
selves seven  feet  men  for  a  while  again.'  'Ay,  Birse,'  he 
answers,  'and  glad  I  am  to  hear  you  admit  it,  for  he  had  you 
in  his  eye.'     I  was  fair  scunnered  at  Tammas  the  day." 

"Mr.  Dishart  was  preaching  at  the  whole  clanjamfray  o' 
you,"  said  Elspeth. 

"Maybe  he  was,"  said  her  husband,  leering;  "but  yot 
needna  cast  it  at  us,  for,  my  certie,  if  the  men  got  it  frae 
him  in  the  forenoon,  the  women  got  it  in  the  afternoon." 

"He  redd  them  up  most  michty,"  said  the  post.  "Thae 
was  his  very  words  or  something  like  them.  'Adam,'  says 
he,  'was  an  erring  man,  but  aside  Eve  he  was  respectable.' " 

"Ay,  but  it  wasna  a'  women  he  meant,"  Elspeth  explained, 
"for  when  he  said  that,  he  pointed  his  finger  direct  at  T'now- 
head's  lassie,  and  I  hope  it'll  do  her  good." 

"But  I  wonder,"  I  said,  "that  Mr.  Dishart  chose  such  a 
subject  to-day.  I  thought  he  would  be  on  the  riot  at  both 
services." 

"You'll  wonder  mair,"  said  Elspeth,  "when  you  hear  what 
happened  afore  he  b«^gan  the  afternoon  sermon.  But  I  canna 
get  in  a  word  wi'  that  man  o'  mine." 

"We've  been  speaking  about  it,"  said  Birse,  "ever  since 
we  left  the  kirk  door.  Tod,  we've  been  sawing  it  like 
seed  a'  alang  the  glen." 

"And  we  meant  to  tell  you  about  it  at  once,"  said  Waster 
Lunny;  "but  there's  aye  so  muckle  to  say  about  a  minister. 
Dagont,  to  hae  ane  keeps  a  body  out  o'  languor.  Ay,  but  this 
breaks  the  drum.  Dominie,  either  Mr.  Dishart  wasna  weel, 
or  he  was  in  the  devil's  grip." 

This  startled  me,  for  the  farmer  was  looking  serious. 


58  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"He  was  weel  eneuch,"  said  Birse,  "for  a  heap  o'  fowk 
speired  at  Jean  if  he  had  ta'en  his  porridge  as  usual,  and  she 
admitted  he  had.  But  the  lassie  was  skeered  hersel',  and 
said  it  was  a  mercy  Mrs.  Dishart  wasna  in  the  kirk." 

"Why  was  she  not  there  ?"     I  asked,  anxiously. 

"Oh,  he  winna  let  her  out  in  sic  weather." 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  happened,"  I  said  to  El- 
speth. 

"So  I  will,"  she  answered,  "if  Waster  Lunny  would  haud 
his  wheesht  for  a  minute.  You  see  the  afternoon  diet  began 
in  the  ordinary  way,  and  a'  was  richt  until  we  came  to  the 
sermon.  'You  will  find  my  text,'  he  says,  in  his  piercing 
voice,  'in  the  eighth  chapter  of  Ezra.'  " 

"And  at  thae  words,"  said  Waster  Lunny,  "my  heart  gae  a 
loup,  for  Ezra  is  an  unca  ill  book  to  find;  ay,  and  so  is 
Ruth." 

"I  kent  the  books  o'  the  Bible  by  heart,"  said  Elspeth, 
scornfully,  "when  I  was  a  sax-year-auld." 

"So  did  I,"  said  Waster  Lunny,  "and  I  ken  them  yet, 
except  when  I'm  hurried.  When  Mr.  Dishart  gave  out 
Ezra  he  a  sort  o'  keeked  round  the  kirk  to  find  out  if  he 
had  puzzled  onybody,  and  so  there  was  a  kind  o'  a  competi- 
tion among  the  congregation  wha  would  lay  hand  on  it 
first.  That  was  what  doited  me.  Ay,  there  was  Ruth  when 
she  wasna  wanted,  but  Ezra,  dagont,  it  looked  as  if  Ezra 
had  jumped  clean  out  o'  the  Bible." 

"You  wasna  the  only  distressed  crittur,"  said  his  wife. 
"I  was  ashamed  to  see  Eppie  McLaren  looking  up  the  order 
o'  the  books  at  the  beginning  o'  the  Bible." 

"Tibbie  Birse  was  even  mair  brazen,"  said  the  post,  "for 
the  sly  cuttie  opened  at  Kings  and  pretended  it  was 
Ezra." 

"None  o'  thae  things  would  I  do,"  said  Waster  Lunny, 
"and  sal,  I  dauredna,  for  Davit  Lunan  was  glowering  over 
my  shuther.  Ay,  you  may  scowl  at  me,  Elspeth  Proctor, 
but  as  far  back  as  I  can  mind,  Ezra  has  done  me.  Mony 
a  time  afore  I  start  for  the  kirk  I  take  my  Bible  to  a  quiet 
place  and  look  Ezra  up.  In  the  very  pew  I  says  canny 
to  mysel',  'Ezra,  Nehemiah,  Esther,  Job,'  the  which  should 
be  a  help,  but  the  moment  the  minister  gi'es  out  that  awfu' 
book,  away  goes  Ezra  like  the  Egyptian." 

"And  you  after  her,"  said  Elspeth,  "like  the  weavers  that 
wouldna  fecht.     You  make  a  windmill  of  your  Bible." 

"Oh,  I  winna  admit  I'm  beat.     Never  mind,  there's  queer 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  59 

things  in  the  world  forby  Ezra.  How  is  cripples  aye  so 
puffed  up  mair  than  other  folk?  How  does  flour  bread  aye 
fall  on  the  buttered  side  ?" 

"I  will  mind,"  Elspeth  said,  "for  I  was  terrified  the  min- 
ister would  admonish  you  frae  the  pulpit." 

"He  couldna  hae  done  that,  for  was  he  no  baffled  to  find 
Ezra  himsel'  ?" 

"Him  to  find  Ezra !"  cried  Elspeth.  "I  hae  telled  you 
a  dozen  times  he  found  it  as  easy  as  you  could  yoke  a 
horse." 

"The  thing  can  be  explained  in  no  other  way,"  said  her 
husband,  doggedly,  "if  he  was  weel  and  in  soimd  mind." 

"Maybe  the  dominie  can  clear  it  up,"  suggested  the  post, 
"him  being  a  scholar." 

"Then  tell  me  what  happened,"  I  asked. 

"Godsake,  hae  we  no  telled  you?"  Birse  said.  "I  thocht 
we  had." 

"It  was  a  terrible  scene,"  said  Elspeth,  giving  her  husband 
a  shove.  "As  I  said,  Mr.  Dishart  gave  out  Ezra  eighth. 
Weel,  I  turned  it  up  in  a  jiffy,  and  syne  looked  cautiously  to 
see  how  Eppie  McLaren  was  getting  on.  Just  at  that  minute 
I  heard  a  groan  frae  the  pulpit.  It  didna  stop  short  o'  a 
groan.  Ay,  you  may  be  sure  I  looked  quick  at  the  minister, 
and  there  I  saw  a  sicht  that  would  hae  made  the  grandest 
gape.  His  face  was  as  white  as  a  baker's,  and  he  had  a  sort 
of  fallen  against  the  back  o'  the  pulpit,  staring  demented-like 
at  his  open  Bible." 

"And  I  saw  him,"  said  Birse,  "put  up  his  hand  atween 
him  and  the  Book,  as  if  he  thocht  it  was  to  jump  at  him." 

"Twice,"  said  Elspeth,  "he  tried  to  speak,  and  twice  he 
let  the  words   fall." 

"That,"  says  Waster  Lunny,  "the  whole  congregation  ad- 
mits, but  I  didna  see  it  mysel',  for  a'  this  time  you  may 
picture  me  hunting  savage-like  for  Ezra.  I  thocht  the 
minister  was  waiting  till  I  found  it." 

"Hendry  Munn,"  said  Birse,  "stood  upon  one  leg,  wonder- 
ing whether  he  should  run  to  the  session-house  for  a  glass 
of  water." 

"But  by  that  time,"  said  Elspeth,  "the  fit  had  left  Mr. 
Dishart,  or  rather  it  had  ta'en  a  new  turn.  He  grew  red, 
and  it's  gospel  that  he  stamped  his  foot." 

"He  had  the  face  of  one  using  bad  words,"  said  the  post. 
"He  didna  swear,  of  course,  but  that  was  the  face  he  had 
on." 


60  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


"I  missed  it,"  said  Waster  Lunny,  "for  I  was  in  full  cry 
after  Ezra,  with  the  sweat  running-  down  my  face." 

"But  the  most  astounding  thing  has  yet  to  be  telled,"  went 
on  Elspeth.  "The  minister  shook  himsel'  like  one  wakening 
frae  a  nasty  dream,  and  he  cries  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  just 
as  if  he  was  shaking  his  fist  at  somebody — " 

"He  cries,"  Birse  interposed,  cleverly,  "he  cries,  'You  will 
find  the  text  in  Genesis,  chapter  three,  verse  six.'  " 

"Yes,"  said  Elspeth,  "first  he  gave  out  one  text,  and  then 
he  gave  out  another,  being  the  most  amazing  thing  to  my 
mind  that  ever  happened  in  the  town  of  Thrums.  What  will 
our  children's  children  think  o't?  I  wouldna  hae  missed  it 
for  a  pound  note." 

"Nor  me,"  said  Waster  Lunny,  "though  I  only  got  the 
tail  o't.  Dominie,  no  sooner  had  he  said  Genesis  third  and 
sixth,  than  I  laid  my  finger  on  Ezra.  Was  it  no  provoking? 
Onybody  can  turn  up  Genesis,  but  it  needs  an  able-bodied 
man  to  find  Ezra." 

"He  preached  on  the  Fall,"  Elspeth  said,  "for  an  hour 
and  twenty-five  minutes,  but  powerful  though  he  was  I 
would  rather  he  had  telled  us  what  made  him  gie  the  go-by 
to  Ezra." 

"All  I  can  say,"  said  Waster  Lunny,  "is  that  I  never  heard 
him  mair  awe-inspiring.  Whaur  has  he  got  sic  a  knowledge 
of  women?  He  riddled  them,  he  fair  riddled  them,  till  I 
was  ashamed  o'  being  married." 

"It's  easy  kcnt  whaur  he  got  his  knowledge  of  women," 
Birse  explained,  "it's  a'  in  the  original  Hebrew.  You  can 
howk  ony  mortal  thing  out  o'  the  original  Hebrew,  the  which 
all  ministers  hae  at  their  finger  ends.  What  else  makes 
them  ken  to  jump  a  verse  now  and  then  when  giving  out  a 
psalm  ?" 

"It  wasna  women  like  me  he  denounced,"  Elspeth  insisted, 
"but  young  lassies  that  leads  men  astray  wi'  their  abominable 
wheedling  ways." 

"Tod,"  said  her  husband,  "if  they  try  their  hands  on  Mr. 
Dishart  they'll  meet  their  match." 

"They  will,"  chuckled  the  post.  "The  Hebrew's  a  grand 
thing,  though  teuch,  I'm  telled,  michty  teuch." 

"His  sublimest  burst,"  Waster  Lunny  came  back  to  tell 
me,  "was  about  the  beauty  o'  the  soul  being  everything 
and  the  beauty  o'  the  face  no  worth  a  snuff.  What  a 
scorn  he  has  for  bonny  faces  and  toom  souls !  I  dinna 
deny   but  what  a  bonnv   face   fell  takes  me.  but  Mr.  Dis- 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  61 


hart  wouldna  gie  a  blade  o'  grass  for't.  Ay,  and  I  used 
to  think  that  in  their  foolishness  about  women  there  was 
dagont  little  differ  atween  the  unlearned  and  the  highly 
edicated." 

The  gossip  about  Gavin  brought  hitherto  to  the  school- 
house  had  been  as  bread  to  me,  but  this  I  did  not  like.  For  a 
minister  to  behave  thus  was  as  unsettling  to  us  as  a  change 
of  Government  to  Londoners,  and  I  decided  to  give  my 
scholars  a  holiday  on  the  morrow  and  tramp  into  the  town 
for  fuller  news.  But  all  through  the  night  it  snowed,  and 
next  day,  and  then  intermittently  for  many  days,  and  every 
fall  took  the  school  miles  farther  away  from  Thrums.  Birse 
and  the  crows  had  now  the  glen  road  to  themselves,  and 
even  Birse  had  twice  or  thrice  to  bed  with  me.  At  these 
times,  had  he  not  been  so  interested  in  describing  his  progress 
through  the  snow,  maintaining  that  the  crying  want  of  our 
glen  road  was  palings  for  postmen  to  kick  their  feet  against, 
he  must  have  wondered  why  I  always  turned  the  talk  to 
the  Auld  Licht  minister. 

''Ony  explanation  o'  his  sudden  change  o'  texts  ?"  Birse 
said,  repeating  my  question.  "Tod,  and  there  is  and  to  spare, 
for  I  hear  tell  there's  saxteen  explanations  in  the  Tenements 
alone.  As  Tammas  Haggart  says,  that's  a  blessing,  for  if 
there  had  just  been  twa  explanations  the  kirk  micht  hae 
split  on  them." 

"Ay,"  he  said  at  another  time,  "twa  or  three  even  dared  to 
question  the  minister,  but  I'm  thinking  they  made  nothing 
o't.  The  majority  agrees  that  he  was  just  inspired  to  change 
his  text.  But  Lang  Tammas  is  dour.  Tammas  telled  the 
session  a  queer  thing.  He  says  that  after  the  diet  o'  worship 
on  that  eventful  afternoon  Mr.  Dishart  carried  the  Bible  out 
o'  the  pulpit  instead  o'  leaving  that  duty  as  usual  to  the 
kirk  officer.  Weel,  Tammas,  being  precentor,  has  a  richt, 
as  you  ken,  to  leave  the  kirk  by  the  session-house  door, 
just  like  the  minister  himsel'.  He  did  so  that  afternoon, 
and  what,  think  you,  did  he  see?  He  saw  Mr,  Dishart  tear- 
ing a  page  out  o'  the  Bible,  and  flinging  it  savagely  into  the 
session-house  fire.  You  dinna  credit  it?  Weel,  it's  stag- 
gering, but  there's  Hendry  Munn's  evidence,  too.  Hendry 
took  his  first  chance  o'  looking  up  Ezra  in  the  minister's 
Bible,  and,  behold,  the  page  wi'  the  eighth  chapter  was 
gone.  Them  that  thinks  Tammas  wasna  blind  wi'  excitement 
bauds  it  had  been  Ezra  eighth  that  gaed  into  the  fire.  Ony- 
way,  there's   no  doubt  about  the  page's  being  missing,   fo»- 


62  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


whatever  excitement  Tammas  was  in,  Hendry  was  as  cool  as 
ever." 

A  week  later  Birse  told  me  that  the  congregation  had 
decided  to  regard  the  incident  as  adding  lustre  to  their  kirk. 
This  was  largely,  I  fear,  because  it  could  then  be  used  to 
beHttle  the  Established  minister.  That  fervent  Auld  Licht, 
Snecky  Hobart,  feeling  that  Gavin's  action  was  unsound,  had 
gone  on  the  following  Sabbath  to  the  parish  kirk  and  sat 
under  Mr.  Duthie.  But  Mr.  Duthie  was  a  close  reader,  so 
that  Snecky  flung  himself  about  in  his  pew  in  misery.  The 
minister  concluded  his  sermon  with  these  words :  "But  on 
this  subject  I  will  say  no  more  at  present."  "Because  you 
canna,"  Snecky  roared,  and  strutted  out  of  the  church.  Com- 
paring the  two  scenes,  it  is  obvious  that  the  Auld  Lichts  had 
won  a  victory.  After  preaching  impromptu  for  an  hour 
and  twenty-five  minutes,  it  could  never  be  said  of  Gavin 
that  he  needed  to  read.  He  became  more  popular  than  ever. 
Yet  the  change  of  texts  was  not  forgotten.  If  in  the  future 
any  other  indictments  were  brought  against  him,  it  would 
certainly  be  pinned  to  them. 

I  marvelled  long  over  Gavin's  jump  from  Ezra  to  Genesis, 
and  at  this  his  first  philippic  against  Woman,  but  I  have 
known  the  cause  for  many  a  year.  The  Bible  was  the  one 
that  had  lain  on  the  summer-seat  while  the  Egyptian  hid 
there.  It  was  the  great  pulpit  Bible  which  remains  in  the 
church  as  a  rule,  but  Gavin  had  taken  it  home  the  previous 
day  to  make  some  of  its  loose  pages  secure  with  paste.  He 
had  studied  from  it  on  the  day  preceding  the  riot,  but  had 
used  a  small  Bible  during  the  rest  of  the  week.  When  he 
turned  in  the  pulpit  to  Ezra,  where  he  had  left  the  large 
Bible  open  in  the  summer-seat,  he  found  this  scrawled  across 
chapter  eight: 

"I  will  never  tell  who  flung  the  clod  at  Captain  HalHwell. 
But  why  did  you  fling  it?  I  will  never  tell  that  you  allowed 
me  to  be  called  Mrs.  Dishart  before  witnesses.  But  is  not 
Ihis  a  Scotch  marriage?    Signed,  Babbie  the  Egyptian." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  63 


CHAPTER   XL 

TELLS    IN    A    WHISPER    OF    MAN's    FALL    DURING   THE    CURLING 

SEASON. 

No  snow  could  be  seen  in  Thrums  by  the  beginning  of 
the  year,  though  clods  of  it  lay  in  Waster  Lunny's  fields, 
where  his  hens  wandered  all  day  as  if  looking  for  some- 
thing they  had  dropped.  A  black  frost  had  set  in,  and  one 
walking  on  the  glen  road  could  imagine  that  through  the 
cracks  in  it,  he  saw  a  loch  glistening.  From  my  door  I 
could  hear  the  roar  of  curling  stones  at  Rashie-bog,  which 
is  almost  four  miles  nearer  Thrums.  On  the  day  I  am 
recalling,  I  see  that  I  only  made  one  entry  in  my  diary,  "At 
Jast  bought  Waster  Lunny's  bantams."  Well  do  I  remember 
the  transaction,  and  no  wonder,  for  I  had  all  but  bought 
the  bantams  every  day  for  a  six  months. 

About  noon  the  doctor's  dog-cart  was  observed  by  all  the 
Tenements  standing  at  the  Auld  Licht  manse.  The  various 
surmises  were  wrong.  Margaret  had  not  been  suddenly 
taken  ill;  Jean  had  not  swallowed  a  darning-needle;  the 
minister  had  not  walked  out  at  his  study  window  in  a  mo- 
ment of  sublime  thought.  Gavin  stepped  into  the  dog-cart, 
which  at  once  drove  off  in  the  direction  of  Rashie-bog,  but 
equally  in  error  were  those  who  said  that  the  doctor  was 
making  a  curler  of  him. 

There  was,  however,  ground  for  gossip ;  for  Thrums  folk 
seldom  called  in  a  doctor  until  it  was  too  late  to  cure  them, 
and  McQueen  was  not  the  man  to  pay  social  visits.  Of 
his  skill  we  knew  fearsome  stories,  as  that,  by  looking  at 
Archie  Allardyce,  who  had  come  to  broken  bones  on  a 
ladder,  he  discovered  which  rung  Archie  fell  from.  When 
he  entered  a  stuffy  room  he  would  poke  his  staff  through 
the  window  to  let  in  fresh  air,  and  then  fling  down  a 
shilling  to  pay  for  the  breakage.  He  was  deaf  in  the  right 
ear,  and  therefore  usually  took  the  left  side  of  prosy  people, 
thus,  as  he  explained,  making  a  blessing  of  an  affliction, 
"A  pity  I  don't  hear  better  ?"  I  have  heard  him  say.  "Not  at 
all.  H  my  misfortune,  as  you  call  it,  were  to  be  removed, 
you  can't  conceive  how  I  should  miss  my  deaf  ear."  He  was 
a  fine  fellow,  though  brusque,  and  I  never  saw  him  without  his 
pipe  until  two  days  before  we  buried  him,  which  was  five  and 
twenty  years  ago  come  Martinmas. 


64  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"We're  all  quite  weel,"  Jean  said,  apprehensively,  as  she 
answered  his  knock  on  the  manse  door,  and  she  tried  to  be 
pleasant,  too,  for  well  she  knew  that,  if  a  doctor  willed  it, 
she  could  have  fever  in  five  minutes. 

"Ay,  Jean,  I'll  soon  alter  that,"  he  replied,  ferociously. 
"Is  the  master  in?" 

"He's  at  his  sermon,"  Jean  said,  with  importance. 

To  interrupt  the  minister  at  such  a  moment  seemed  sac- 
filege  to  her,  for  her  up-bringing  had  been  good.  Her 
mother  had  once  fainted  in  the  church,  but  though  the 
family's  distress  was  great,  they  neither  bore  her  out,  nor 
signed  to  the  kirk  officer  to  bring  water.  They  propped  her 
up  in  the  pew  in  a  respectful  attitude,  joining  in  the  singing 
meanwhile,  and  she  recovered  in  time  to  look  up  2d  Chron- 
icles, twenty-first  and  seventh. 

"Tell  him  I  want  to  speak  to  him  at  the  door,"  said  the 
doctor,  fiercely,  "or  I'll  bleed  you  this  minute." 

McQueen  would  not  enter,  because  his  horse  might  have 
seized  the  opportunity  to  return  stablewards.  At  the  houses 
where  it  was  accustomed  to  stop,  it  drew  up  of  its  own 
accord,  knowing  where  the  doctor's  "cases"  were  as  well  as 
himself,  but  it  resented  new  patients. 

"You  like  misery,  I  think,  Mr.  Dishart,"  McQueen  said, 
when  Gavin  came  to  him,  "at  least  I  am  always  finding  yoa 
in  the  thick  of  it,  and  that  is  why  I  am  here  now.  I  have 
a  rare  job  for  you  if  you  will  jump  into  the  machine.  You 
know  Nanny  Webster,  who  lives  on  the  edge  of  Windy- 
ghoul?  No,  you  don't,  for  she  belongs  to  the  other  kirk. 
Well,  at  all  events,  you  know  her  brother,  Sanders,  the 
mole-catcher?" 

"I  remember  him.  You  mean  the  man  who  boasted  SO 
much  about  seeing  a  ball  at  Lord  Rintoul's  place?" 

"The  same,  and,  as  you  may  know,  his  boasting  about 
maltreating  policemen  whom  he  never  saw  led  to  his  being 
sentenced  to  nine  months   in  gaol  lately." 

"That  is  the  man,"  said  Gavin.     "I  never  liked  him." 

"No,  but  his  sister  did,"  McQueen  answered,  drily,  "and 
with  reason,  for  he  was  her  breadwinner,  and  now  she  is 
starving." 

"Anything  I  can  give  her—" 

"Would  be  too  little,  sir." 

"But  the  neighbours — " 

"She  has  few  near  her,  and  though  the  Thrums  poor 
help    each    other    bravely,    they    are    at    present    nigh    as 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  65 

needy  as  herself.  Nanny  is  coming  to  the  poorhouse,  Mr. 
Dishart." 

"God  help  her  !"  exclaimed  Gavin. 

"Nonsense,"  said  the  doctor,  trying  to  make  himself  a 
hard  man.  "She  will  be  properly  looked  after  there,  and — 
and  in  time  she  will  like  it." 

"Don't  let  my  mother  hear  you  speaking  of  taking  an  old 
woman  to  that  place,"  Gavin  said,  looking  anxiously  up  the 
stair.     I  cannot  pretend  that  Margaret  never  listened. 

"You  all  speak  as  if  the  poorhouse  was  a  gaol,"  the  doctor 
said,  testily.  "But  so  far  as  Nanny  is  concerned,  everything 
is  arranged.  I  promised  to  drive  her  to  the  poorhouse  to-day, 
and  she  is  waiting  for  me  now.  Don't  look  at  me  as  if  I 
was  a  brute.  She  is  to  take  some  of  her  things  with  her 
to  the  poorhouse,  and  the  rest  is  to  be  left  until  Sanders's 
return,  when  she  may  rejoin  him.  At  least  we  said  that  to 
her  to  comfort  her." 

"You  want  me  to  go  with  you?" 

"Yes,  though  I  warn  you  it  may  be  a  distressing  scene; 
indeed,  the  truth  is  that  I  am  loth  to  face  Nanny  alone  to-day. 
Mr.  Duthie  should  have  accompanied  me,  for  the  Websters 
are  Established  Kirk;  ay,  and  so  he  would  if  Rashie-bog  had 
not  been  bearing.  A  terrible  snare  this  curling,  Mr.  Dis- 
hart,"— here  the  doctor  sighed, — "I  have  known  Mr.  Duthie 
wait  until  midnight  struck  on  Sabbath  and  then  be  off  to 
Rashie-bog  with  a  torch." 

"I  will  go  with  you,"  Gavin  said,  putting  on  his  coat. 

"Jump  in  then.  You  won't  smoke?  I  never  see  a  respect- 
able man  not  smoking,  sir,  but  I  feel  indignant  with  him 
for  such  sheer  waste  of  time." 

Gavin  smiled  at  this,  and  Snecky  Hobart,  who  happened 
to  be  keeking  over  the  manse  dyke,  bore  the  news  to  the 
Tenements. 

"I'll  no  sleep  the  nicht,"  Snecky  said,  "for  wondering 
what  made  the  minister  lauch.     Ay,  it  would  be  no  trifle." 

A  minister,  it  is  certain,  who  wore  a  smile  on  his  face 
would  never  have  been  called  to  the  Auld  Licht  kirk,  for 
life  is  a  wrestle  with  the  devil,  and  only  the  frivolous  think  to 
throw  him  without  taking  off  their  coats.  Yet,  though 
Gavin's  zeal  was  what  the  congregation  reverenced,  many 
loved  him  privately  for  his  boyishness.  He  could  unbend  at 
marriages,  of  which  he  had  six  on  the  last  day  of  the  year, 
and  at  every  one  of  them  he  joked  (the  same  Joke)  like  a 
layman.     Some  did  not  approve  of  his  playing  at  the  tee- 


66  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

totum  for  ten  minutes  with  Kitty  Dundas's  invalid  son,  but 
the  way  Kitty  boasted  about  it  would  have  disgusted  any- 
body. At  the  present  day  there  are  probably  a  score  of 
Gavins  in  Thrums,  all  called  after  the  little  minister,  and 
there  is  one  Gavinia,  whom  he  hesitated  to  christen.  He 
made  humorous  remarks  (the  same  remark)  about  all  these 
children,  and  his  smile  as  he  patted  their  heads  was  for  think- 
ing over  when  one's  work  was  done  for  the  day. 

The  doctor's  horse  clattered  up  the  Backwynd  noisily,  as 
if  a  minister  behind  made  no  difference  to  it.  Instead  of 
climbing  the  Roods,  however,  the  nearest  way  to  Nanny's,  it 
went  westward,  which  Gavin,  in  a  reverie,  did  not  notice. 
The  truth  must  be  told.     The  Egyptian  was  again  in  his  head. 

"Have  I  fallen  deaf  in  the  left  ear,  too?"  said  the  doctor. 
"1  see  your  lips  moving,  but  I  don't  catch  a  syllable." 

Gavin  started,  coloured,  and  flung  the  gypsy  out  of  the 
trap. 

"Why  are  we  not  going  up  the  Roods?"  he  asked. 

'"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  slowly,  "at  the  top  of  the  Roods 
there  is  a  stance  for  circuses,  and  this  old  beast  of  mine 
won't  pass  it.  You  know,  unless  you  are  behind  in  the 
clashes  and  clavers  of  Thrums,  that  I  bought  her  from  the 
manager  of  a  travelling  show.  She  was  the  horse  ('Light- 
ning' they  called  her)  that  galloped  round  the  ring  at  a  mile 
an  hour,  and  so  at  the  top  of  the  Roods  she  is  still  un- 
manageable. She  once  dragged  me  to  the  scene  of  her 
former  triumphs,  and  went  revolving  round  it,  dragging  the 
machine  after  her." 

"H  you  had  not  explained  that,"  said  Gavin,  "I  might 
have  thought  that  you  wanted  to  pass  by  Rashie-bog." 

The  doctor,  indeed,  was  already  standing  up  to  catch  a 
first  glimpse  of  the  curlers. 

"Well,"  he  admitted,  "I  might  have  managed  to  pass  the 
circus  ring,  though  what  I  have  told  you  is  true.  However, 
I  have  not  come  this  way  merely  to  see  how  the  match  is 
going.  I  want  to  shame  Mr.  Duthie  for  neglecting  his  duty. 
It  will  help  me  to  do  mine,  for  the  Lord  knows  I  am  find- 
ing it  hard,  with  the  music  of  these  stones  in  my  ears." 

'T  never  saw  it  played  before,"  Gavin  said,  standing  up  in 
his  turn.  "What  a  din  they  make !  McQueen,  I  believe 
they  are  fighting !" 

"No,  no,"  said  the  excited  doctor,  "they  are  just  a  bit  daft. 
That's  the  proper  spirit  for  the  game.  Look,  that's  the  baron- 
bailie  near  standing  on  his  head,  and  there's  Mr.  Duthie  off 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  67 

his  head  a'  thegither,  Yon's  twa  weavers  and  a  mason 
cursing  the  laird,  an  the  man.wi'  the  besom  is  the  Master  of 
Crumnathie." 

"A  democracy,  at  all  events,"  said  Gavin. 

"By  no  means,"  said  the  doctor,  "it's  an  aristocracy  of  in- 
tellect. Gee  up,  Lightning,  or  the  frost  v^^ill  be  gone  before 
we  are  there." 

McQueen  turned  Lightning  down  the  Rashie-bog  road, 
which  would  be  impassable  as  soon  as  the  thaw  came.  In 
summer  Rashie-bog  is  several  fields  in  which  a  cart  does 
not  sink  unless  it  stands  still,  but  in  winter  it  is  a  loch 
with  here  and  there  a  spring,  where  dead  men  are  said 
to  lie.  There  are  no  rushes  at  its  east  end,  and  here  the 
dog-cart  drew  up  near  the  curlers,  a  crowd  of  men  dancing, 
screaming,  shaking  their  fists  and  sweeping,  while  half  a 
hundred  onlookers  got  in  their  way,  gesticulating  and 
advising. 

"Hold  me  tight,"  the  doctor  whispered  to  Gavin,  "or 
I'll  be  leaving  you  to  drive  Nanny  to  the  poorhouse  by 
yourself." 

He  had  no  sooner  said  this,  than  he  tried  to  jump  out 
of  the  trap. 

"You  donnert  fule,  John  Robbie,"  he  shouted  to  a  player, 
"soop  her  up,  man,  soop  her  up ;  no,  no,  dinna,  dinna ;  leave 
her  alane.  Bailie,  leave  her  alane,  you  blazing  idiot.  Mr. 
Dishart,  let  me  go;  what  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  hanging  on 
to  my  coat  tails?  Dang  it  all,  Duthie's  winning.  He  has  it, 
he  has  it !" 

"You're  to  play,  doctor?"  some  cried,  running  to  the  dog- 
cart.    "We  hae  missed  you  sair." 

"Jeames,  I — I —    No,  I  daurna." 

"Then  we  get  our  licks.  I  never  saw  the  minister  in  sic 
form.     We  can  do  nothing  against  him." 

"Then,"  cried  McQueen,  "I'll  play.  Come  what  will, 
I'll  play.  Let  go  my  tails,  Mr.  Dishart,  or  I'll  cut  them 
off.     Duty?     Fiddlesticks!" 

"Shame  on  you,  sir,"  said  Gavin;  "yes,  and  on  you  others 
who  would  entice  him  frora  his  duty." 

"Shame!"  the  doctor  cried.  "Look  at  Mr.  Duthie.  Is  he 
ashamed?  And  yet  that  man  has  been  reproving  me  for  a 
twelvemonths,  because  I've  refused  to  become  one  of  his 
elders.  Duthie,"  he  shouted,  "think  shame  of  yourself  for 
curling  this  day." 

Mr,  Duthie  had  carefully  turned  his  back  to  the  trap,  for 


68  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


Gavin's  presence  in  it  annoyed  him.  We  seldom  care  to  be 
reminded  of  our  duty  by  seeing  another  do  it.  Now,  how- 
ever, he  advanced  to  the  dog-cart,  taking  the  far  side  of 
Gavin. 

"Put  on  your  coat,  Mr.  Duthie,"  said  the  doctor,  Vand 
come  with  me  to  Nanny  Webster's.    You  promised." 

Mr.  Duthie  looked  quizzically  at  Gavin,  and  then  at  the 
sky. 

"Tlie  thaw  may  come  at  any  moment,"  he  said, 

"I  think  the  frost  is  to  hold,"  said  Gavin. 

"It  may  hold  over  to-morrow,"  Mr.  Duthie  admitted;  "but 
to-morrow's  the  Sabbath,  and  so  a  lost  day." 

"A  what?"  exclaimed  Gavin,  horrified. 

"I  only  mean,"  Mr.  Duthie  answered,  colouring,  "that  we 
can't  curl  on  the  Lord's  day.  As  for  what  it  may  be  like 
on  Monday,  no  one  can  say.  No,  doctor,  I  won't  risk  it. 
We're  in  the  middle  of  a  game,  man." 

Gavin  looked  very  grave. 

"I  see  what  you  are  thinking,  Mr.  Dishart,"  the  old  min- 
ister said,  doggedly;  "but  then,  you  don't  curl.  You  are 
very  wise.    I  have  forbidden  my  sons  to  curl." 

"Then  you  openly  snap  your  fingers  at  your  duty,  Mr. 
Duthie?"  said  the  doctor,  loftily.  ("You  can  let  go  my 
tails  now,  Mr.  Dishart,  for  the  madness  has  passed.") 

"None  of  your  virtuous  airs,  McQueen."  said  Mr.  Duthie, 
hotly.  "What  was  the  name  of  the  doctor  that  warned 
women  never  to  have  bairns  while  it  was  handing?" 

"And  what,"  retorted  McQueen,  "was  the  name  of  the 
minister  that  told  his  session  he  would  neither  preach  nor 
pray  while  the  black  frost  lasted?" 

"Hoots,  doctor,"  said  Duthie,  "don't  lose  your  temper  be- 
cause I'm  in  such  form." 

"Don't  lose  yours,  Duthie,  because  I  aye  beat  you." 

"You  beat  me,  McQueen !  Go  home,  sir,  and  don't  talk 
havers.     Who  beat  you  at — " 

"Who  made  vou  sing  small  at — " 

"Who  won—" 

"Who—" 

"Who—" 

"I'll  play  you  on  Monday  for  whatever  you  like !"  shrieked 
the  doctor. 

"If  it  holds,"  cried  the  minister,  "I'll  be  here  the  whole 
day.    Name  the  stakes  yourself.    A  stone?" 

"No,"  the  doctor  said,  "but  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  play 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  69 

for.  You've  been  dinging:  me  doited  about  that  eldership, 
and  we'll  play  for't.    If  you  win  I  accept  office." 

"Done,"  said  the  minister,  recklessly. 

The  dog-cart  was  now  turned  towards  Windyghoul,  its 
driver  once  more  good-humoured,  but  Gavin  silent. 

"You  would  have  been  the  better  of  my  deaf  ear  just  now, 
Mr.  Dishart,"  McQueen  said  after  the  loch  had  been  left 
behind.  "Ay,  and  I'm  thinking  my  pipe  would  soothe  you. 
But  don't  take  it  so  much  to  heart,  man.  I'll  lick  him 
easily.  He's  a  decent  man,  the  minister,  but  vain  of  his  play, 
ridiculously  vain.  However,  I  think  the  sight  of  you,  in  the 
place  that  should  have  been  his,  has  broken  his  nerve  for 
this  day,  and  our  side  may  win  yet." 

"I  believe,"  Gavin  said,  with  sudden  enlightenment,  "that 
you  brought  me  here  for  that  purpose." 

"Maybe,"  chuckled  the  doctor ;  "maybe."  Then  he  changed 
the  subject  suddenly.  "Mr.  Dishart,"  he  asked,  "were  you 
ever  in  love?" 

"Never !"  answered  Gavin,  violently. 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  doctor,  "don't  terrify  the  horse.  I 
have  been  in  love  myself.  It's  bad,  but  it's  nothing  to 
curling." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TRAGEDY    OF    A    MUD    HOUSE. 

The  dog-cart  bumped  between  the  trees  of  Caddam,  fling- 
ing Gavin  and  the  doctor  at  each  other  as  a  wheel  rose  on 
some  beech-root  or  sank  for  a  moment  in  a  pool.  I  suppose 
the  wood  was  a  pretty  sight  that  day,  the  pines  only  white 
where  they  had  met  the  snow,  as  if  the  numbed  painter  had 
left  his  work  unfinished,  the  brittle  twigs  snapping  overhead, 
the  water  as  black  as  tar.  But  it  matters  little  what  the 
wood  was  like.  Within  a  squirrel's  leap  of  it  an  old  woman 
was  standing  at  the  door  of  a  mud  house  listening  for  the 
approach  of  the  trap  that  was  to  take  her  to  the  poorhouse. 
Can  you  think  of  the  beauty  of  the  day  now? 

Nanny  was  not  crying.  She  had  redd  up  her  house  for 
the  last  time  and  put  on  her  black  merino.  Her  mouth  was 
wide  open  while  she  listened.  If  you  had  addressed  her  you 
would  have  thought  her  polite  and  stupid.  Look  at  her.  A 
flabby- faced  woman  she  is  now,  with  a  swollen  body,  and  no 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


one  has  heeded  her  much  these  thirty  years.  I  can  tell  you 
something;  it  is  almost  droll,  Nanny  Webster  was  once  a 
gay  flirt,  and  in  Airlie  Square  there  is  a  weaver  with  an 
unsteady  head  who  thought  all  the  earth  of  her.  His  loom 
has  taken  a  foot  from  his  stature,  and  gone  are  Nanny's 
raven  locks  on  which  he  used  to  place  his  adoring  hand. 
Down  in  Airlie  Square  he  is  weaving  for  his  life,  and  here 
is  Nanny  ripe  for  the  poorhouse,  and  between  them  is  the 
hill  where  they  were  lovers.  That  is  all  the  story  save 
when  Nanny  heard  the  dog-cart  she  screamed. 

No  neighbour  was  with  her.  If  you  think  this  hard,  it  is 
because  you  do  not  understand.  Perhaps  Nanny  had  never 
been  very  lovable  except  to  one  man,  and  him,  it  is  said,  she 
lost  through  her  own  vanity;  but  there  was  much  in  her  to 
like.  The  neighbours,  of  whom  there  were  two  not  a  hun- 
dred yards  away,  would  have  been  with  her  now,  but  they 
feared  to  hurt  her  feelings.  No  heart  opens  to  sympathy 
without  letting  in  delicacy,  and  these  poor  people  knew  that 
Nanny  would  not  like  them  to  see  her  being  taken  away. 
For  a  week  they  had  been  aware  of  what  was  coming,  and 
they  had  been  most  kind  to  her,  but  that  hideous  word,  the 
poorhouse,  they  had  not  uttered.  Poorhouse  is  not  to  be 
spoken  in  Thrums,  though  it  is  nothing  to  tell  a  man  that 
you  see  death  in  his  face.  Did  Nanny  think  they  knew  when 
she  was  going  ?  was  a  question  they  whispered  to  each  other, 
and  her  suffering  eyes  cut  scars  on  their  hearts.  So  now 
that  the  hour  had  come  they  called  their  children  into  their 
houses  and  pulled  down  their  blinds. 

"If  you  would  like  to  see  her  by  yourself,"  the  doctor 
said  eagerly,  to  Gavin,  as  the  horse  drew  up  at  Nanny's 
gate,  "I'll  wait  with  the  horse.  Not,"  he  added,  hastily, 
''that  I  feel  sorry  for  her.    We  are  doing  her  a  kindness." 

They  dismounted  together,  however,  and  Nanny,  who  had 
run  from  the  trap  into  the  house,  watched  them  from  her 
window. 

McQueen  saw  her  and  said,  glumly,  "I  should  have  come 
alone,  for  if  you  pray  she  is  sure  to  break  down.  Mr.  Dis- 
hart,  could  you  not  pra>  cheerfully?" 

"You  don't  look  very  cheerful  yourself,"  Gavin  said,  sadly. 

"Nonsense,"  answered  the  doctor.  "I  have  no  patience 
with  this  false  sentiment.  Stand  still,  Lightning,  and  be 
thankful  you  are  not  your  master  to-day." 

Tlie  door  stood  open,  and  Nanny  was  crouching  against  the 
opposite  wall  of  the  room,  such  a  poor,  dull  kitchen,  thr.t 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  71 


you  would  have  thought  the  furniture  had  still  to  be  brought 
into  it.  The  blanket  and  the  piece  of  old  carpet  that  was 
Nanny's  coverlet  were  already  packed  in  her  box.  The  plate 
rack  was  empty.  Only  the  round  table  and  the  two  chairs, 
and  the  stools  and  some  pans,  were  being  left  behind. 

"Well,  Nanny,"  the  doctor  said,  trying  to  bluster,  "I  have 
come,  and  you  see  Mr.  Dishart  is  with  me." 

Nanny  rose  bravely.  She  knew  the  doctor  was  good  to 
her,  and  she  wanted  to  thank  him,  I  have  not  seen  a  great 
deal  of  the  world  myself,  but  often  the  sweet  politeness  of 
the  aged  poor  has  struck  me  as  beautiful.  Nanny  dropped  a 
curtesy,  an  ungainly  one  maybe,  but  it  was  an  old  woman 
giving  the  best  she  had. 

"Thank  you  kindly,  sirs,"  she  said;  and  then  two  pairs  of 
eyes  dropped  before  hers. 

"Please  to  take  a  chair,"  she  added,  timidly.  It  is  strange 
to  know  that  at  that  awful  moment,  for  let  none  tell  me  it 
was  less  than  awful,  the  old  woman  was  the  one  who  could 
speak. 

Both  men  sat  down,  for  they  would  have  hurt  Nanny  by 
remaining  standing.  Some  ministers  would  have  known  the 
right  thing  to  say  to  her,  but  Gavin  dared  not  let  himself 
speak.  I  have  again  to  remind  you  that  he  was  only  one 
and  twenty. 

The  doctor  thought  it  best  that  they  should  depart  at  once. 
He  rose. 

"Oh,  no,  doctor,"  cried  Nanny,  in  alarm. 

"But  you  are  ready?" 

"Ay,"  she  said,  "I  have  been  ready  this  twa  hours,  but 
you  micht  wait  a  minute.  Hendry  Munn  and  Andrew  Al- 
lardyce  is  coming  yont  the  road,  and  they  would  see  me." 

"Wait,  doctor,"  Gavin  said. 

"Thank  you  kindly,  sir,"  answered  Nanny. 

"But.  Nanny,"  the  doctor  said,  "you  must  remember  what 
I  told  you  about  the  poo — ,  about  the  place  you  are  going  to. 
It  is  a  fine  house,  and  you  will  be  very  happy  in  it." 

"Ay,  I'll  be  happy  in't,"  Nanny  faltered,  "but,  doctor,  if  I 
could  just  hae  bidden  on  here  though  I  wasna  happy!" 

"Think  of  the  food  you  will  get ;  broth  nearly  every  day." 

"It — it'll  be  terrible  enjoyable,"  Nanny  said. 

''And  there  will  be  pleasant  company  for  you  always," 
continued  the  doctor,  "and  a  nice  room  to  sit  in.  Why,  after 
you  have  been  there  a  week  you  won't  be  the  same  woman."" 

"That's  it!"  cried  Nanny,  with  sudden  passion.     "Na,  na; 


72  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

I'll  be  a  woman  on  the  poor's  rates.  Oh,  mither,  mither,  you 
little  thocht  when  you  bore  me  that  I  would  come  to  this  !" 

"Nanny,"  the  doctor  said,  rising  again,  "I  am  ashamed  of 
you." 

"I  humbly  speir  your  forgiveness,  sir,"  she  said,  "and  you 
micht  bide  just  a  wee  yet.  I've  been  ready  to  gang  these 
twa  hours,  but  now  that  the  machine  is  at  the  gate,  I  dinna 
ken  how  it  is,  but  I'm  terrible  sweer  to  come  awa'.  Oh,  Mr. 
Dishart,  it's  richt  true  what  the  doctor  says  about  the — ^the 
place,  but  I  canna  just  take  it  in.     I'm — I'm  gey  auld." 

"You  will  often  get  out  to  see  your  friends,"  was  all  Gavin 
could  say. 

"Na,  na,  na,"  she  cried,  "dinna  say  that;  I'll  gang,  but 
you  mauna  bid  me  ever  come  out,  except  in  a  hearse.  Dinna 
let  onybody  in  Thrums  look  on  my  face  again." 

"We  must  go,"  said  the  doctor,  firmly.  "Put  on  your 
mutch,  Nanny." 

"I  dinna  need  to  put  on  a  mutch,"  she  answered,  with  a 
faint  flush  of  pride.     "I  have  a  bonnet." 

She  took  the  bonnet  from  her  bed,  and  put  it  on  slowly. 

"Are  you  sure  there's  naebody  looking?"  she  asked. 

The  doctor  glanced  at  the  minister,  and  Gavin  rose. 

"Let  us  pray,"  he  said,  and  the  three  went  down  on  their 
knees. 

It  was  not  the  custom  of  Auld  Licht  ministers  to  leave 
any  house  without  offering  up  a  prayer  in  it,  and  to  us  it 
always  seemed  that  when  Gavin  prayed,  he  was  at  the  knees 
of  God.  The  little  minister  pouring  himself  out  in  prayer 
in  a  humble  room,  with  awed  people  round  him  who  knew 
much  more  of  the  world  than  he,  his  voice  at  times  thick 
and  again  a  squeal,  and  his  hands  clasped  not  gracefully, 
may  have  been  only  a  comic  figure,  but  we  were  old-fash- 
ioned, and  he  seemed  to  make  us  better  men.  If  I  only  knew 
the  way,  I  would  draw  him  as  he  was.  and  not  fear  to  make 
him  too  mean  a  man  for  you  to  read  about.  He  had  not 
been  long  in  Thrums  before  he  knew  that  we  talked  much 
of  his  prayers,  and  that  doubtless  puffed  him  up  a  little. 
Sometimes.  I  daresay,  h^  rose  from  his  knees  feeling  that  he 
Iiad  prayed  well  to-day,  which  is  a  dreadful  charge  to  bring 
against  any  one.  But  it  was  not  always  so,  nor  was  it  so 
now. 

I  am  not  speaking  harshly  of  this  man,  whom  I  have  loved 
beyond  all  others,  when  I  say  that  Nannie  came  between 
him  and  his  prayer.     Had  he  been  of  God's  own  image,  un- 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  73 


stained,  he  would  have  forgotten  all  else  in  his  Maker's  pres- 
ence, but  Nanny  was  speaking,  too,  and  her  words  choked 
his.  At  first  she  only  whispered,  but  soon  what  was  eating 
her  heart  burst  out  painfully,  and  she  did  not  know  that  the 
minister  had  stopped. 

They  were  such  moans  as  these  that  brought  him  back  to 
earth: 

■'I'll  hae  to  gang  .  .  .  I'm  a  base  woman  no  to  be  mair 
thankfu'  to  them  that  is  so  good  to  me  .  .  .1  dinna  like  to 
prig  wi'  them  to  take  a  roundabout  road,  and  I'm  sair  fleid  a' 
the  Roods  will  see  me  .  .  .  If  it  could  just  be  said  to  poor 
Sanders  when  he  comes  back  that  I  died  hurriedly,  syne  he 
would  be  able  to  baud  up  his  head  .  .  .  Oh,  mither !  .  .  .  I 
wish  terrible  they  had  come  and  ta'en  me  at  nicht  .  .  .  It's 
a  dog-cart,  and  I  was  praying  it  micht  be  a  cart,  so  that 
they  could  cover  me  wi'  straw." 

"This  is  more  than  I  can  stand,"  the  doctor  cried. 

Nanny  rose  frightened. 

"I've  tried  you,  sair,"  she  said,  "but,  oh,  I'm  grateful,  and 
I'm  ready  now." 

They  all  advanced  towards  the  door  without  another  word, 
and  Nanny  even  tried  to  smile.  But  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor  something  came  over  her,  and  she  stood  there.  Gavin 
took  her  hand,  and  it  was  cold.  She  looked  from  one  to  the 
other,  her  mouth  opening  and  shutting. 

"I  canna  help  it,"  she  said. 

"It's  cruel  hard,"  muttered  the  doctor.  "I  knew  this 
woman  when  she  was  a  lassie." 

The  little  minister  stretched  out  his  hands. 

"Have  pity  on  her,  O  God !"  he  prayed,  with  the  pre- 
sumptuousness  of  youth. 

Nanny  heard  the  words. 

"Oh,  God,"  she  cried,  "you  micht !" 

God  needs  no  minister  to  tell  Him  what  to  do,  but  it  was 
His  will  that  the  poorhouse  should  not  have  this  woman.  He 
made  use  of  a  strange  instrument,  no  other  than  the  Egyptian. 
who  now  opened  the  mud  house  door. 


74  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

SECOND   COMING    OF    THE    EGYPTIAN    WOMAN. 

The  gypsy  had  been  passing  the  house,  perhaps  on  her  way 
to  Thrums  for  gossip,  and  it  was  only  curiosity,  born  sud- 
denly of  Gavin's  cry,  that  made  her  enter.  On  finding  her- 
self in  unexpected  company  she  retained  hold  of  the  door, 
and  to  the  amazed  minister  she  seemed  for  a  moment  to  have 
stepped  into  the  mud  house  from  his  garden.  Her  eyes 
danced,  however,  as  they  recognised  him,  and  then  he  hard- 
ened. "This  is  no  place  for  you,"  he  was  saying  fiercely, 
when  Nanny,  too  distraught  to  think,  fell  crying  at  the  Egyp- 
tian's feet. 

"They  are  taking  me  to  the  poorhouse,"  she  sobbed;  "dinna 
let  them,  dinna  let  them." 

The  Egyptian's  arms  clasped  her,  and  the  Egyptian  kissed 
a  sallow  cheek  that  had  once  been  as  fair  as  yours,  madam, 
who  may  read  this  story.  No  one  had  caressed  Nanny  for 
many  years,  but  do  you  think  she  was  too  poor  and  old  to 
care  for  these  young  arms  round  her  neck?  There  are  those 
who  say  that  women  cannot  love  each  other,  but  it  is  not  true. 
Woman  is  not  undeveloped  man,  but  something  better,  and 
Gavin  and  the  doctor  knew  it  as  they  saw  Nanny  clinging  to 
her  protector.  When  the  gypsy  turned  with  flashing  eyes  to 
the  two  men  she  might  have  been  a  mother  guarding  her 
child. 

"How  dare  you!"  she  cried,  stamping  her  foot;  and  they 
quaked  like  malefactors. 

"You  don't  see — "  Gavin  began,  but  her  indignation  stopped 
him. 

"You  coward  !"  she  said. 

Even  the  doctor  had  been  impressed,  so  that  he  now  ad- 
dressed the  gypsy  respectfully. 

"This  is  all  very  well,"  he  said,  "but  a  woman's  sym- 
pathy— " 

"A  woman! — ah,  if  I  could  be  a  man  for  only  five 
minutes  !" 

She  clenched  her  little  fists,  and  again  turned  to  Nanny. 

"You  poor  dear,"  she  said,  tenderly,  "I  won't  let  them 
take  you  away." 

She  looked  triumphantly  at  both  minister  and  doctor,  as  one 
who  had  foiled  them  in  their  cruel  designs. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  75 

"Go !"  she  said,  pointing  grandly  to  the  door. 

"Is  this  the  Egyptian  of  the  riots,"  the  doctor  said  in  a 
low  voice  to  Gavin,  "or  is  she  a  queen?  Hoots,  man,  don't 
look  so  shamefaced.    We  are  not  criminals.    Say  something." 

Then  to  the  Egyptian  Gavin  said,  firmly: 

"You  mean  well,  but  you  are  doing  this  poor  woman  a 
cruelty  in  holding  out  hopes  to  her  that  cannot  be  realised. 
Sympathy  is  not  meal  and  bedclothes,  and  these  are  what 
she  needs." 

"And  you  who  live  in  luxury,"  retorted  the  girl,  "would 
send  her  to  the  poorhouse  for  them.  I  thought  better  of 
you !" 

"Tuts !"  said  the  doctor,  losing  patience.  "Mr.  Dishart 
gives  more  than  any  other  man  in  Thrums  to  the  poor,  and 
he  is  not  to  be  preached  to  by  a  gypsy.  We  are  waiting  for 
you,  Nanny." 

"Ay,  I'm  coming,"  said  Nanny,  leaving  the  Egyptian.  "I'll 
hae  to  gang,  lassie.     Dinna  greet  for  me." 

But  the  Egyptian  said,  "No,  you  are  not  going.  It  is  these 
men  who  are  going.     Go,  sirs,  and  leave  us." 

"And  you  will  provide  for  Nanny?"  asked  the  doctor,  con- 
temptuously. 

"Yes." 

"And  where  is  the  siller  to  come  from?" 

"That  is  my  affair,  and  Nanny's.  Begone,  both  of  you. 
She  shall  never  want  again.  See  how  the  very  mention  of 
your  going  brings  back  life  to  her  face." 

"I  won't  begone,"  the  doctor  said,  roughly,  "till  I  see  the 
colour  of  your  siller." 

"Oh,  the  money,"  said  the  Egyptian,  scornfully.  She  put 
her  hand  into  her  pocket  confidently,  as  if  used  to  well-filled 
purses,  but  could  only  draw  out  two  silver  pieces. 

"I  had  forgotten,"  she  said  aloud,  though  speaking  to  her- 
self. 

"I  thought  so,"  said  the  cynical  doctor.     "Come,  Nanny." 

"You  presume  to  doubt  me !"  the  Egyptian  said,  blocking 
his  way  to  the  door. 

"How  could  I  presume  to  believe  you?"  he  answered.  "You 
are  a  beggar  by  profession,  and  yet  talk  as  if — pooh,  non- 
sense." 

"I  would  live  on  terrible  little,"  Nanny  whispered,  "and 
Sanders  will  be  out  again  in  August  month." 

"Seven  shillings  a  week,"  rapped  out  the  doctor. 

"Is  that  all?"  the  Egyptian  asked.     "She  shall  have  it." 


76  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"When?" 

"At  once.  No,  it  is  not  possible  to-night,  but  to-morrow 
I  will  bring  five  pounds ;  no,  I  will  send  it ;  no,  you  must 
come  for  it." 

"And  where,  O  daughter  of  Dives,  do  you  reside?"  the 
doctor  asked. 

No  doubt  the  Egyptian  could  have  found  a  ready  answer 
had  her  pity  for  Nanny  been  less  sincere;  as  it  was  she 
hesitated,  wanting  to  propitiate  the  doctor,  while  holding  her 
secret  fast. 

"I  only  asked,"  McQueen  said,  eyeing  her  curiously,  "be- 
cause when  I  make  an  appointment  I  like  to  know  where  it 
is  to  be  held.  But  I  suppose  you  are  suddenly  to  rise  out 
of  the  ground  as  you  have  done  to-day,  and  did  six  weeks 
ago." 

"Wliether  I  rise  out  of  the  ground  or  not,"  the  gj'psy 
said,  keeping  her  temper  with  an  effort,  "there  will  be  a 
five-pound  note  in  my  hand.  You  will  meet  me  to-morrow 
about  this  hour  at — say  the  Kaims  of  Cushie?" 

"No,"  said  the  doctor,  after  a  moment's  pause ;  "I  won't. 
Even  if  I  went  to  the  Kaims  I  should  not  find  you  there. 
Why  can  you  not  come  to  me?" 

"Why  do  you  carry  a  woman's  hair,"  replied  the  Egyptian, 
"in  that  locket  on  your  chain?" 

Whether  she  was  speaking  of  what  she  knew,  or  this  was 
only  a  chance  shot,  I  cannot  tell,  but  the  doctor  stepped  back 
from  her  hastily,  and  could  not  help  looking  down  at  the 
locket. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Egyptian,  calmly,  "it  is  still  shut;  but  why 
do  you  sometimes  open  it  at  nights  ?" 

"Lassie,"   the  old  doctor  cried,   "are   you  a   witch?" 

"Perhaps,"  she  said;  "but  I  ask  for  no  answer  to  my 
questions.  If  you  have  your  secrets,  why  may  I  not  have 
mine?    Now  will  you  meet  me  at  the  Kaims?" 

"No;  I  distrust  3'ou  more  than  ever.  Even  if  you  came,  it 
would  be  to  play  with  me  as  you  have  done  already.  How 
can  a  vagrant  have  five  pounds  in  her  pocket  when  she 
does   not  have  five  shillmgs  on  her  back?" 

"You  are  a  cruel,  hard  man,"  the  Egyptian  said,  beginning 
to  lose  hope.  "But,  see,"  she  cried,  brightening,  "look  at 
this  ring.     Do  you  know  its  value?" 

She  held  up  her  finger,  but  the  stone  would  not  live  in 
the  dull  light. 

"I   see  it  is  gold,"   the  doctor  said,   cautiously,  and  she 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  77 

smiled  at  the  ignorance  that  made  him  look  only  at  the 
frame. 

"Certainly,   it   is  gold,"  said   Gavin,   equally   stupid. 

"Mercy  on  us!"  Nanny  cried;  "I  believe  it's  what  they 
call  a  diamond." 

'"How  did  you  come  by  it?"  the  doctor  asked,  suspiciously. 

"I  thought  we  had  agreed  not  to  ask  each  other  questions," 
the  Egyptian  answered,  drily.  "But,  see,  I  will  give  it  to 
you  to  hold  in  hostage.  If  I  am  not  at  the  Kaims  to  get  it 
back  you  can  keep  it." 

The  doctor  took  the  ring  in  his  hand  and  examined  it  curi- 
ously. 

"There  is  a  quirk  in  this,"  he  said  at  last,  "that  I  don't 
like.  Take  back  your  ring,  lassie.  Mr.  Dishart,  give  Nanny 
your  arm,  and  I'll  carry  her  box  to  the  machine." 

Now  all  this  time  Gavin  had  been  in  the  dire  distress  of 
a  man  possessed  of  two  minds,  of  which  one  said,  "This  is  a 
true  woman,"  and  the  other,  "Remember  the  seventeenth  of 
October."  They  were  at  war  within  him,  and  he  knew  that 
he  must  take  a  side,  yet  no  sooner  had  he  cast  one  out  than 
he  invited  it  back.     He  did  not  answer  the  doctor. 

"Unless,"  McQueen  said,  nettled  by  his  hesitation,  "you 
trust  this  woman's  word." 

Gavin  tried  honestly  to  weigh  those  two  minds  against 
each  other,  but  could  not  prevent  impulse  jumping  into  one 
of  the  scales. 

"You  do  trust  me,"  the  Egyptian  said,  with  wet  eyes;  and 
now  that  he  looked  on  her  again — 

"Yes,"  he  said,  firmly,  "I  trust  you,"  and  the  words  that 
had  been  so  difficult  to  say  were  the  right  words.  He  had 
no  more  doubt  of  it. 

"Just  think  a  moment  first,"  the  doctor  warned  him.  "I 
decline  to  have  anything  to  do  with  this  matter.  You  will 
go  to  the  Kaims  for  the  siller?" 

"If  it  is  necessary,"  said  Gavin. 

"It  is  necessary."  the  Egyptian  said. 

"Then  I  will  go." 

Nanny  took  his  hand  timidly,  and  would  have  kissed  it 
had  he  been  less  than  a  minister. 

"You  dare  not,  man,"  the  doctor  said,  grufifly,  "make  an 
appointment  with  this  gypsy.  Think  of  what  will  be  said  in 
Thrums." 

I  honour  Gavin  for  the  way  in  which  he  took  this  warning. 
For  him,   who   was   watched   from  the  rising   of  his  con- 


78  THE  LITTLE  ^MINISTER 

gregation  to  their  lying  down,  whose  every  movement  was 
expected  to  be  a  text  to  Thrums,  it  was  no  small  thing 
that  he  had  promised.  This  he  knew,  but  he  only  reddened 
because  the  doctor  had  implied  an  offensive  thing  in  a 
woman's  presence. 

"You   forget  yourself,   doctor,"  he  said,   sharply. 

"Send  some  one  in  your  place,"  advised  the  doctor,  who 
liked  the  little  minister. 

"He  must  come  himself  and  alone,"  said  the  Egyptian. 
"You  must  both  give  me  your  promise  not  to  mention  who 
is   Nanny's   friend,  and  she  must  promise,  too." 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  buttoning  up  his  coat,  "I  cannot 
keep  my  horse  freezing  any  longer.  Remember,  Mr.  Dishart, 
you  take  the  sole  responsibility  of  this." 

"I  do,"  said  Gavin,  "and  with  the  utmost  confidence." 

"Give  him  the  ring  then,  lassie,"  said  McQueen. 

She  handed  the  minister  the  ring,  but  he  would  not  take  it. 

"I   have   your   word,"   he  said;   "that   is   sufifiicient." 

Then  the  Egyptian  gave  him  the  first  look  that  he  could 
think  of  afterwards  without  misgivings. 

"So  be  it,"  said  the  doctor.  "Get  the  money,  and  I  will 
say  nothing  about  it,  unless  I  have  reason  to  think  that  it 
has  been  dishonestly  come  by.  Don't  look  so  frightened  at 
me,  Nanny.  I  hope  for  your  sake  that  her  stocking- foot  is 
full  of  gold." 

"Surely  it's  worth  risking,"  Nanny  said,  not  very  brightly, 
"when  the  minister's  on  her  side." 

"Ay,  but  on  whose  side,  Nanny?"  asked  the  doctor.  "Las- 
sie, I  bear  you  no  grudge;  will  you  not  tell  me  who  yoa 
are?" 

"Only  a  puir  gypsy,  your  honour,"  said  the  girl,  becoming 
mischievous,  now  that  she  had  gained  her  point ;  "only  a 
wandering  hallen-shaker,  and  will  I  tell  you  your  fortune, 
my  pretty  gentleman?" 

"No,  you  sha'n't,"  replied  the  doctor,  plunging  his  hands 
so  hastily  into  his  pockets  that  Gavin  laughed. 

"I  don't  need  to  look  at  your  hand,"  said  the  gypsy,  "I 
can   read  your   fortune  In  your   face." 

She  looked  at  him  fixedly,  so  that  he  fidgeted. 

"I  see  you,"  said  the  Egyptian  in  a  sepulchral  voice,  and 
speaking  slowly,  "become  very  frail.  Your  eyesight  has  al- 
most gone.  You  are  sitting  alone  in  a  cauld  room,  cooking 
your  ain  dinner  ower  a  feeble  fire.  The  soot  is  falling  down 
the  lum.     Your  bearish  manners  towards  women  have  driven 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  79 

the  servant  lassie  frae  your  house,  and  your  wife  beats 
you." 

"Ay,  you  spoil  your  prophecy  there,"  the  doctor  said,  con- 
siderably relieved,  "for  I'm  not  married;  my  pipe's  the  only 
wife  I  ever  had." 

"You  will  be  married  by  that  time,"  continued  the  Egyptian, 
frowning  at  this  interruption,  "for  I  see  your  wife.  She  is 
a  shrew.  She  marries  you  in  your  dotage.  She  lauchs  at  you 
in  company.     She  doesna  allow  you  to  smoke." 

"Away  with  you,  you  jade,"  cried  the  doctor,  in  a  fury, 
and  feeling  nervously  for  his  pipe.  "Mr.  Dishart,  you  had 
better  stay  and  arrange  this  matter  as  you  choose,  but  I  want 
a  word  with  you  outside." 

"And  you're  no  angry  wi'  me,  doctor,  are  you?"  asked 
Nanny,  wistfully.  "You've  been  richt  good  to  me,  but  I 
canna  thole  the  thocht  o'  that  place.  And,  oh,  doctor,  you 
winna  tell  naebody  that  I  was  so  near  ta'en  to  it?" 

In  the  garden  McQueen  said  to  Gavin : 

"You  may  be  right,  Mr.  Dishart,  in  this  matter,  for  there 
is  this  in  our  favour,  that  the  woman  can  gain  nothing 
by  tricking  us.  She  did  seem  to  feel  for  Nanny.  But  who 
can  she  be?  You  saw  she  could  put  on  and  off  the  Scotch 
tongue  as  easily  as  if  it  were  a  cap." 

"She  is  as  much  a  mystery  to  me  as  to  you,"  Gavin  an- 
swered, "but  she  will  give  me  the  money,  and  that  is  all  I 
ask  of  her." 

"Ay,  that  remains  to  be  seen.  But  take  care  of  yourself; 
a  man's  second  childhood  begins  when  a  woman  gets  hold  of 
him." 

"Don't  alarm  yourself  about  me,  doctor.  I  daresay  she 
is  only  one  of  those  gypsies  from  the  South.  They  are  said 
to  be  wealthy,  many  of  them,  and  even,  when  they  like,  to 
have  a  grand  manner.  The  Thrums  people  had  no  doubt 
but   that  she  was  what   she  seemed  to  be." 

"Ay,  but  what  does  she  seem  to  be?  Even  that  puzzles 
me.  And  then  there  is  this  mystery  about  her  which  she 
admits  herself,  though  perhaps  only  to  play  with  us." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Gavin,  "she  is  only  taking  precautions 
against  her  discovery  by  the  police.  You  must  remember 
her  part  in  the  riots." 

"Yes,  but  we  never  learned  how  she  was  able  to  play  that 
part.  Besides,  there  is  no  fear  in  her,  or  she  would  not  have 
ventured  back  to  Thrums.  However,  good  luck  attend  you. 
But  be  wary.     You  saw  how  she  kept  her  feet  among  her 


80  THE  LITTLE  MmiSTER 


shalls  and  wills?  Never  trust  a  Scotch  man  or  woman  who 
does  not  come  to  grief  among  them." 

The  doctor  took  his  seat  in  the  dog-cart. 

"And,  Mr.  Dishart,"  he  called  out,  "that  was  all  nonsense 
about  the  locket." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE    MINISTER    DANCES    TO    THE    WOMAN's    PIPING. 

Gavin  let  the  doctor's  warnings  fall  in  the  grass.  In  his 
joy  over  Nanny's  deliverance  he  jumped  the  garden  gate, 
whose  hinges  were  of  yarn,  and  cleverly  caught  his  hat  as  it 
was  leaving  his  head  in  protest.  He  then  reentered  the  mud 
house  staidly.  Pleasant  was  the  change.  Nanny's  home  was 
as  a  clock  that  had  been  run  out,  and  is  set  going  again. 
Already  the  old  woman  was  unpacking  her  box,  to  increase 
the  distance  between  herself  and  the  poorhouse.  But  Gavin 
only  saw  her  in  the  background,  for  the  Egyptian,  singing  at 
her  work,  had  become  the  heart  of  the  house.  She  had  flung 
her  shawl  over  Nanny's  shoulders,  and  was  at  the  fireplace 
breaking  peats  with  the  leg  of  a  stool.  She  turned  merrily 
to  the  minister  to  ask  him  to  chop  up  his  staff  for  firewood, 
and  he  would  have  answered  wittily  but  could  not.  Then, 
as  often,  the  beauty  of  the  Egyptian  surprised  him  into 
silence. 

"Nanny  and  I  are  to  have  a  dish  of  tea,  as  soon  as  we 
have  set  things  to  rights,"  she  told  him.  "Do  you  think 
we   should   invite  the  minister,   Nanny?" 

"We  couldna  dare,"  Nanny  answered,  quickly.  "You'll 
excuse  her,  Mr.  Dishart,  for  the  presumption?" 

"Presumption !"  said  the   Egyptian,  making  a   face. 

"Lassie,"  Nanny  said,  fearful  to  offend  her  new  friend, 
yet  horrified  at  this  affront  to  the  minister,  "I  ken  you  mean 
weel,  but  Mr.  Dishart'U  think  you're  putting  yoursel'  on 
an  equality  wi'  him."  She  added  in  a  whisper,  "Dinna  be  so 
free;  he's  the  Auld  Licht  minister." 

The  gypsy  bowed  with  mock  awe,  but  Gavin  let  it  pass. 
He  had,  indeed,  forgotten  that  he  was  anybody  in  particular, 
and  was  anxious  to  stay  to  tea. 

"But  there  is  no  water,"  he  remembered,  "and  is  there 
any  tea?" 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  81 

"I  am  going  out  for  them  and  for  some  other  things," 
the  Egyptian  explained.  "But  no,"  she  continued,  reflectively, 
"if  I  go  for  the  tea,  you  must  go  for  the  water." 

"Lassie,"  cried  Nanny,  "mind  wha  you're  speaking  to.  To 
send  a  minister  to  the  well !" 

"I  will  go,"  said  Gavin,  recklessly  lifting  the  pitcher. 
"The  well  is  in  the  wood,  I  think?" 

"Gie  me  the  pitcher,  Mr.  Dishart,"  said  Nanny,  in  dis- 
tress.    "What  a  town  there  would  be  if  you  was  seen  wi't !" 

"Then  he  must  remain  here  and  keep  the  house  till  we 
come  back,"  said  the  Egyptian,  and  thereupon  departed,  with 
a  friendly  wave  of  her  hand  to  the  minister. 

"She's  an  awfu'  lassie,"  Nanny  said,  apologetically,  "but 
it'll  just  be  the  way  she  has  been  brought  up." 

"She   has   been   very   good   to   you,    Nanny." 

"She  has ;  leastwise  she  promises  to  be.  Mr.  Dishart,  she's 
awa' ;  what  if  she  doesna  come  back?" 

Nanny  spoke  nervously,  and  Gavin  drew  a  long  face. 

"I  think  she  will,"  he  said,  faintly.  "I  am  confident  of 
it,"  he  added,  in  the  same  voice. 

"And  has  she  the  siller  ?" 

"I  believe  in  her,"  said  Gavin,  so  doggedly  that  his  own 
words  reassured  him.     "She  has  an  excellent  heart. 

"I  suppose  she'll  gie  you  the  money,"  she  said,  "and  syne 
you'll  gie  me  the  seven  shillings  a  week?" 

'That  seems  the  best  plan,"  Gavin  answered. 

Her  mind  relieved  on  this  matter,  the  old  woman  set  off 
for  the  well. 

Gavin  returned  to  the  fife  and  watched  a  girl  in  it  in 
an'  officer's  cloak  playing  at  hide-and-seek  with  soldiers. 
After  a  time  he  sighed,  then  looked  round  sharply  to  see 
who  had  sighed,  then,  absent-mindedly,  lifted  the  empty  kettle 
and  placed  it  on  the  glowing  peats.  He  was  standing  glaring 
at  the  kettle,  his  arms  folded,  when  Namiy  returned  from  the 
well. 

"I've  been  thinking,"  she  said,  "o'  something  that  proves 
the  lassie  to  be  just  an  Egyptian.  Ay,  I  noticed  she  wasna 
nane  awed  when  I  said  you  was  the  Auld  Licht  minister. 
Weel,  I'se  uphaud  that  came  frae  her  living  ower  muckle 
in  the  open  air.  Is  there  no'  a  smell  o'  burning  in 
the  house?" 

"I  have  noticed  it,"  Gavin  answered,  sniffing,  "since  you 
came  in.  I  was  busy  until  then,  putting  on  the  kettle.  The 
smell  is  becoming  worse." 


82  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

Nanny  had  seen  the  empty  kettle  on  the  fire  as  he  began 
to  speak,  and  so  solved  the  mystery.  Her  first  thought  was 
to  snatch  the  kettle  out  of  the  blaze,  but  remembering  who 
had  put  it  there,  she  dared  not.  She  sidled  towards  the 
hearth  instead,  and  saying,  craftily,  "Ay,  here  it  is;  it's  a 
clout  among  the  peats,"  softly  laid  the  kettle  on  the  earthen 
floor.  It  was  still  red  with  sparks,  however,  when  the  gypsy 
reappeared. 

"Who  burned  the  kettle?"  she  asked,  ignoring  Nanny's 
signs. 

"Lassie,"  Nanny  said,  "it  was  me;"  but  Gavin,  flushing, 
confessed  his  guilt. 

"Oh,  you  stupid !"  exclaimed  the  Egyptian,  shaking  her 
two  ounces  of  tea  (which  then  cost  six  shillings  the  pound) 
in  his   face. 

At  this  Nanny  wrung  her  hands,  crying,  "That's  waur 
than  swearing." 

"If  men,"  said  the  gypsy,  severely,  "would  keep  their  hands 
in  their  pockets  all  day,  the  world's  affairs  would  be  more 
easily  managed." 

"Wheesht!"  cried  Nanny,  "if  Mr.  Dishart  cared  to  set 
his  mind  to  it,  he  could  make  the  kettle  boil  quicker  than 
you  or  me.     But  his  thochts  is  on  higher  things." 

"No  higher  than  this,"  retorted  the  gypsy,  holding  her 
hand  level  with  her  brow.  "Confess,  Mr.  Dishart,  that  this 
is  the  exact  height  of  what  you  were  thinking  about.  See, 
Nanny,  he  is  blushing  as  if  I  meant  that  he  had  been  thinking 
about  me.  He  cannot  answer,  Nanny;  we  have  found 
him  out." 

"And  kindly  of  him  it  is  no  to  answer,"  said  Nanny,  who 
had  been  examining  the  gypsy's  various  purchases;  "for  what 
could  he  answer,  except  that  he  would  need  to  be  sure  o' 
living  a  thousand  years  afore  he  could  spare  five  minutes 
on  you  or  me?  Of  course,  it  would  be  different  if  we  sat 
under  him." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  Egyptian,  with  great  solemnity,  "he 
is  to  drink  tea  at  that  very  table.  I  hope  you  are  sensible 
of  the  honour,  Nanny." 

"Am  I  no?"  said  Nanny,  whose  education  had  not  included 
sarcasm.  "I'm  trying  to  keep  frae  thinking  o't  till  he's  gone, 
in  case  I  should  let  the  teapot  fall." 

"You  have  nothing  to  thank  me  for,  Nanny,"  said  Gavin, 
''but  much  for  which  to  thank  this — this — " 

"This    haggarty-taggarty    Egyptian,"    suggested    the    girl. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  83 

Then,  looking  at  Gavin  curiously,  she  said,  "But  my  name 
is  Babbie." 

"That's  short  for  Barbara,"  said  Nanny;  "but  Babbie 
what  ?" 

"Yes,  Babbie  Watt,"  replied  the  gypsy,  as  if  one  name 
were  as  good  as  another. 

"Weel,  then,  lift  the  lid  off  the  kettle.  Babbie,"  said  Nanny, 
"for  it's  boiling  ower." 

Gavin  looked  at  Nanny  with  admiration  and  envy,  for  she 
had  said  Babbie  as  coolly  as  if  it  was  the  name  of  a  pepper- 
box. 

Babbie  tucked  up  her  sleeves  to  wash  Nanny's  cups  and 
saucers,  which  even  in  the  most  prosperous  days  of  the 
mud  house  had  only  been  in  use  once  a  week,  and  Gavin  was 
so  eager  to  help  that  he  bumped  his  head  on  the  plate-rack. 

"Sit  there,"  said  Babbie,  authoritatively,  pointing,  with  a 
cup  in  her  hand,  to  a  stool,  "and  don't  rise  till  I  give  you 
permission." 

To  Nanny's  amazement,  he  did  as  he  was  bid. 

"I  got  the  things  in  the  little  shop  you  told  me  of,"  the 
Egyptian  continued,  addressing  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
"but  the  horrid  man  would  not  give  them  to  me  until  he 
had  seen  my  money." 

"Enoch  would  be  suspicious  o'  you,"  Nanny  explained,  "you 
being  an  Egyptian." 

"Ah,"  said  Babbie,  with  a  side  glance  at  the  minister,  "I 
am  onlv  an  Egyptian.  Is  that  why  you  dislike  me,  Mr. 
Dishart'?" 

Gavin  hesitated  foolishly  over  his  answer,  and  the  Egyp- 
tian, with  a  towel  round  her  waist,  made  a  pretty  gesture 
of  despair. 

"He  neither  likes  you  nor  dislikes  you,"  Nanny  explained; 
"you  forget  he's  a  minister." 

"That  is  what  I  cannot  endure,"  said  Babbie,  putting  the 
towel  to  her  eyes,  "to  be  neither  liked  nor  disliked.  Please 
hate  me,  Mr.  Dishart,  if  you  cannot  lo — ove  me." 

Her  face  was  behind  the  towel,  and  Gavin  could  not 
decide  whether  it  was  the  face  or  the  towel  that  shook  with 
agitation.  He  gave  Nanny  a  look  that  asked,  "Is  she  really 
crying?"  and  Nanny  telegraphed  back,  "I  question  it." 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  minister,  gallantly,  "I  did  not  say 
that  I  disliked  you." 

Even  this  desperate  compliment  had  not  the  desired  effect, 
for  the  gypsy  continued  to  sob  behind  her  screen. 


84  THE  LITTLE  ^MINISTER 

"I  can  honestly  say,"  went  on  Gavin,  as  solemnly  as  if 
making  a  statement  in  a  court  of  justice,  "that  I  like  you." 

Then  the  Egyptian  let  drop  her  towel,  and  replied,  with 
equal   solemnity : 

"Oh,  tank  oo !  Nanny,  the  minister  says  me  is  a  dood 
'ittle  dirl." 

"He  didna  gang  that  length,"  said  Nanny,  sharply,  to  cover 
Gavin's  confusion.  "Set  the  things.  Babbie,  and  I'll  make 
the  tea." 

The  Egyptian  obeyed  demurely,  pretending  to  wipe  hef 
eyes  every  time  Gavin  looked  at  her.  He  frowned  at  this, 
and  then  she  affected  to  be  too  overcome  to  go  on  with  her 
work. 

"Tell  me,  Nanny,"  she  asked,  presently,  "what  sort  of 
man  this  Enoch  is,  from  whom  I  bought  the  things?" 

"He  is  not  very  regular,  I  fear,"  answered  Gavin,  who 
felt  that  he  had  sat  silent  and  self-conscious  on  his  stool  too 
long. 

"Do  you  mean  that  he  drinks?"  asked  Babbie. 

"No,  I  mean  regular  in  his  attendance." 

The  Egyptian's   face  showed  no  enlightenment. 

"His  attendance  at  church,"  Gavin  explained. 

"He's  far  frae  it,"  said  Nanny,  "and  as  a  body  kens,  Joe 
Cruickshanks,  the  atheist,  has  the  wite  o'  that.  The  scoun- 
drel telled  Enoch  that  the  great  ministers  in  Edinbury  and 
London  believed  in  no  hell  except  sic  as  your  ain  conscience 
made  for  you,  and  ever  since  syne  Enoch  has  been  careless 
about  the  future  state." 

*'Ah,"  said  Babbie,  waving  the  Church  aside,  "what  I 
want  to  know  is  whether  he  is  a  single  man." 

"He  is  not,"  Gavin  replied,  "but  why  do  you  want  to 
know  that?" 

"Because  single  men  are  such  gossips.  I  am  sorry  he  is 
not  single,  as  I  want  him  to  repeat  to  everybody  what  I  tola 
him." 

"Trust  him  to  tell  Susy,"  said  Nanny,  "and  Susy  to  tell 
the  town." 

"His   wife   is  a  gossip?" 

"Ay,  she's  aye  tonguing,  especially  about  her  teeth.  They're 
folk  wi'  siller,  and  she  has  a  set  o'  false  teeth.  It's  fair 
scumfishing  to  hear  her  blawing  about  thae  teeth,  she's  so 
fleid  we  dinna  ken  that  they're   false." 

Nanny  had  spoken  jealously,  but  suddenly  she  trembled 
with  apprehension. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  85 


"Babbie,"  she  cried,  "you  didna  speak  about  the  poorhouse 
to  Enoch  ?" 

The  Egyptian  shook  her  head,  though  of  the  poorhouse 
she  had  been  forced  to  speak,  for  Enoch,  having  seen  the 
doctor  going  home  alone,  insisted  on  knowing  why. 

"But  I  knew,"  the  gypsy  said,  "that  the  Thrums  people 
would  be  very  unhappy  until  they  discovered  where  you 
get  the  money  I  am  to  give  you,  and  as  that  is  a  secret,  I 
hinted  to  Enoch  that  your  benefactor  is  Mr.  Dishart." 

"You  should  not  have  said  that,"  interposed  Gavin.  "I 
cannot  foster  such  a  deception." 

"They  will  foster  it  without  your  help,'*  the  Egyptian 
said.  "Besides,  if  you  choose,  you  can  say  you  get  the  money 
from  a  friend." 

"Ay,  you  can  say  that,"  Nanny  entreated  with  such  eager- 
ness that  Babbie  remarked,  a  little  bitterly: 

"There  is  no  fear  of  Nanny's  telling  any  one  that  the 
friend  is   a  gypsy  girl." 

"Na,  na,"  agreed  Nanny,  again  losing  Babbie's  sarcasm. 
"I  winna  let  on.  It's  so  queer  to  be  befriended  by  an 
Egyptian." 

'Tt   is   scarcely  respectable,"   Babbie  said. 

"It's  no,"  answered  simple  Nanny. 

I  suppose  Nanny's  unintentional  cruelty  did  hurt  Babbie 
as  much  as  Gavin  thought.  She  winced,  and  her  face  had 
two  expressions,  the  one  cynical,  the  other  pained.  Her 
mouth  curled  as  if  to  tell  the  minister  that  gratitude  was 
nothing  to  her,  but  her  eyes  had  to  struggle  to  keep  back 
a  tear.  Gavin  was  touched,  and  she  saw  it,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment they  were  two  people  who  understood  each  other. 

"I,  at  least,"  Gavin  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "will  know  who 
is  the  benefactress,  and  think  none  the  worse  of  her  because 
she  is  a  gypsy." 

At  this  Babbie  smiled  gratefully  to  him,  and  then  both 
laughed,  for  they  had  heard  Nanny  remarking  to  the  kettle, 
"But  I  wouldna  hae  been  nane  angry  if  she  had  telled  Enoch 
that  the  minister  was  to  take  his  tea  here.  Susy'll  no  believe't 
though  1  tell  her,  as  tell  her  I  will." 

To  Nanny  the  table  now  presented  a  rich  appearance,  for 
besides  the  teapot  there  were  butter  and  loaf-bread  and 
cheesies :  a  biscuit  of  w^iich  only  Thrums  knows  the  secret. 

"Draw  in  your  chair,  Mr.  Dishart,"  she  said,  in  suppressed 
excitement. 
■    "Yes,"   said   Babbie,   "you  take   this   chair,   Mr.    Dishartj 


86  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

and  Nanny  will  have  that  one,  and  I  can  sit  humbly  on  the 
stool." 

But  Nanny  held  up  her  hands  in  horror. 

"Keep  us  a'!"  she  exclaimed;  "the  lassie  thinks  her  and 
me  is  to  sit  down  wi'  the  minister !  We're  no  to  gang  that 
length,  Babbie;  we're  just  to  stand  and  serve  him,  and  syne 
we'll  sit  down  when  he  has  risen." 

"Delightful !"  said  Babbie,  clapping  her  hands.  "Nannie, 
you  kneel  on  that  side  of  him,  and  I  will  kneel  on  this.  You 
will  hold  the  butter  and  I  the  biscuits." 

But  Gavin,  as  this  girl  was  always  forgetting,  was  a  lord 
of  creation. 

"Sit  down  both  of  you  at  once!"  he  thundered.  "I  com- 
mand you." 

Then  the  two  women  fell  into  their  seats, — Nanny  in  terror 
Babbie  affecting  it. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  MINISTER  BEWITCHED SECOND  SERMON   AGAINST  WOMEN. 

To  Nanny  it  was  a  dizzying  experience  to  sit  at  the  head 
of  her  own  table,  and,  with  assumed  calmness,  invite  the 
minister  not  to  spare  the  loaf-bread.  Babbie's  prattle,  and 
even  Gavin's  answers,  were  but  an  indistinct  noise  to  her,  to 
be  as  little  regarded,  in  the  excitement  of  watching  whether 
Mr.  Dishart  noticed  that  there  was  a  knife  for  the  butter,  as 
the  music  of  the  river  by  a  man  who  is  catching  trout.  Every 
time  Gavin's  cup  went  to  his  lips  Nanny  calculated  (cor- 
rectly) how  much  he  had  drunk,  and  yet,  when  the  right 
moment  arrived,  she  asked  in  the  English  voice  that  is  fash- 
ionable at  ceremonies,  "if  his  cup  was  toom." 

Perhaps  it  was  well  that  Nanny  had  these  matters  to 
engross  her,  for  though  Gavin  spoke  freely,  he  was  saying 
nothing  of  lasting  value,  and  some  of  his  remarks  to  the 
Egyptian,  if  preserved  for  the  calmer  contemplation  of  the 
morrow,  might  have  seemed  frivolous  to  himself.  Usually 
his  observations  were  scrambled  for,  like  ha'pence  at  a  wed- 
ding, but  to-day  they  were  only  for  one  person.  Infected 
by  the  Egyptian's  high  spirits,  Gavin  had  laid  aside  the  min- 
ister with  his  hat,  and  what  was  left  was  only  a  young  man. 
He  who  had  stamped  his  feet  at  thought  of  a  soldier's  cloak 
now  wanted  to  be  reminded  of  it.     Tlae  little  minister,  who 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  87 

used  to  address  himself  in  terms  of  scorn  every  time  he 
wasted  an  hour,  was  at  present  dallying  with  a  teaspoon. 
He  even  laughed  boisterously,  flinging  back  his  head,  and 
little  knew  that  behind  Nanny's  smiling  face  was  a  terrible 
dread,  because  his  chair  had  once  given  way  before. 

Even  though  our  thoughts  are  not  with  our  company,  the 
mention  of  our  name  is  a  bell  to  which  we  usually  answer. 
Hearing  hers,  Nanny  started. 

"You  can  tell  me,  Nanny,"  the  Egyptian  had  said,  with 
an  arch  look  at  the  minister.  "Oh,  Nanny,  for  shame !  How 
can  you  expect  to  follow  our  conversation  when  you  only 
listen  to  Mr.  Dishart?" 

"She  is  saying,  Nanny,"  Gavin  broke  in,  almost  gaily  for 
a  minister,  "that  she  saw  me  recently  wearing  a  cloak. 
You  know  I  have  no  such  thing." 

"Na,"  Nanny  answered,  artlessly,  "you  have  just  the  thin 
brown  coat  wi'  the  braid  round  it,  forby  the  ane  you  have 
on  the  now." 

"You  see,"  Gavin  said  to  Babbie,  "I  could  not  have  a  new 
neckcloth,  not  to  speak  of  a  cloak,  without  everybody  in 
Thrums  knowing  about  it.  I  dare  say  Nanny  knows  all  about 
the  braid,  and  even  what  it  cost." 

"Three  bawbees  the  yard  at  Kyowowy's  shop,"  replied 
Nanny,  promptly,  "and  your  mother  sewed  it  on,  Sam'l 
Fairweather  has  the  marrows  o't  on  his  top-coat.  No  that 
it  has  the  same  look  on  him." 

"Nevertheless,"  Babbie  persisted,  "I  am  sure  the  minister 
has  a  cloak;  but  perhaps  he  is  ashamed  of  it.  No  doubt  it 
is  hidden  away  in  the  garret." 

"Na,  we  would  hae  kent  o't  if  it  was  there,"  said  Nanny. 

"But  it  may  be  in  a  chest,  and  the  chest  may  be  locked," 
the  Egyptian  suggested. 

"Ay,  but  the  kist  in  the  garret  isna  locked,"  Nanny  an- 
swered. 

"How  do  you  get  to  know  all  these  things,  Nanny?"  asked 
Gavin,  sighing. 

"Your  congregation  tells  me.  Naebody  would  lay  by  news 
about  a  minister." 

"But  how  do  they  know?" 

"I  dinna  ken.  They  just  find  out,  because  they're  so  fond 
o'  you." 

"I  hope  they  will  never  become  so  fond  of  me  as  that," 
said  Babbie.  "Still,  Nanny,  the  minister's  cloak  is  hidden 
somewhere." 


88  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Losh,  what  would  make  him  hod  it?"  demanded  the 
old  woman,  "Folk  that  has  cloaks  doesna  bury  them  in 
boxes." 

At  the  word  "bury"  Gavin's  hand  fell  on  the  table,  and 
he  returned  to  Nanny  apprehensively. 

"That  would  depend  on  how  the  cloak  was  got,"  said  the 
cruel  Egyptian.     "If  it  was  not  his  own — ■" 

"Lassie,"  cried  Nanny,  "behave  yoursel'." 

"Or  if  he  found  it  in  his  possession  against  his  will?" 
suggested  Gavin,  slyly.  "He  might  have  got  it  from  some 
one  who  picked  it  up  cheap." 

"From  his  wife,  for  instance,"  said  Babbie,  whereupon 
Gavin   suddenly   became   interested   in   the    floor. 

"Ay,  ay,  the  minister  was  hitting  at  you  there,  Babbie," 
Nanny  explained,  "for  the  way  you  made  off  wi'  the  cap- 
tain's cloak.  The  Thrums  folk  wonder  less  at  your  taking 
it  than  at  your  no  keeping  it.     It's  said  to  be  michty  grand." 

"It  was  rather  like  the  one  the  minister's  wife  gave  him," 
said  Babbie. 

"The  minister  has  neither  a  wife  nor  a  cloak,"  retorted 
Nanny. 

"He  isn't  married?"  asked  Babbie,  the  picture  of  in- 
credulity. 

Nanny  gathered  from  the  minister's  face  that  he  deputed 
to  her  the  task  of  enlightening  this  ignorant  girl,  so  she  re- 
plied, with  emphasis,  "Na,  they  hinna  got  him  yet,  and  I'm 
cheated  if  it  doesna  tak  them  all  their  time." 

Thus  do  the  best  of  women  sell  their  sex  for  nothing. 

"I  did  wonder,"  said  the  Egyptian,  gravely,  "at  any 
mere  woman's  daring  to  marry  such  a  minister." 

"Ay,"  replied  Nanny,  spiritesdly,  "but  there's  dauring 
limmers  wherever  there's  a  single  man." 

"So  I  have  often  suspected,"  said  Babbie,  duly  shocked. 
"But,  Nanny,  I  was  told  the  minister  had  a  wife,  by  one 
who  said  he  saw  her." 

"He  lied,  then,"  answered  Nanny,  turning  to  Gavin  for 
further   instructions. 

"But,  see,  the  minister  does  not  deny  the  horrid  charge 
himself." 

"No,  and  for  the  reason  he  didna  deny  the  cloak :  be- 
cause it's  no  worth  his  while.  I'll  tell  you  wha  your  friend 
had  seen.  It  would  be  somebody  that  would  like  to  be 
Mrs.  Dishart.  There's  a  hantle  o'  that  kind.  Ay,  lassie, 
but  wishing  winna  land  a  woman  in  a  manse." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  89 


"It  was  one  of  the  soldiers,"  Babbie  said,  "who  told  me 
about  her.     He  said  Mr.  Dishart  introduced  her  to  him." 

"Sojers!"  cried  Nanny.  "I  could  never  thole  the  name 
o'  them.  Sanders  in  his  young  days  hankered  after  joining 
them,  and  so  he  would,  if  it  hadna  been  for  the  fechting. 
Ay,  and  now  they've  ta'en  him  awa  to  the  gaol,  and  sworn 
lies  about  him.     Dinna  put  any  faith  in  sojers,  lassie." 

"I  was  told,"  Babbie  went  on,  "that  the  minister's  wife 
was  rather  like  me." 

"Heaven  forbid!"  ejaculated  Nanny,  so  fervently  that  all 
three  suddenly  sat  back  from  the  table. 

"I'm  no  meaning,"  Nanny  continued,  hurriedly,  fearing  to 
offend  her  benefactress,  "but  what  you're  the  bonniest  tid 
I  ever  saw  out  o'  an  almanack.  But  you  would  ken  Mr. 
Dishart's  contempt  for  bonny  faces  if  you  had  heard  his 
sermon  against  them.  I  didna  hear  it  mysel',  for  I'm  no 
Auld  Licht,  but  it  did  the  work  o'  the  town  for  an  aucht 
days." 

If  Nanny  had  not  taken  her  eyes  off  Gavin  for  the  mo- 
ment she  would  have  known  that  he  was  now  anxious  to 
change  the  topic.     Babbie  saw  it,  and  became  suspicious. 

"When  did  he  preach  against  the  wiles  of  women,  Nanny  ?" 

"It   was   long  ago,"    said   Gavin,   hastily. 

"No  so  very  lang  syne,"  corrected  Nanny.  It  was  the 
Sabbath  after  the  sojers  was  in  Thrums;  the  day  you 
changed  your  text  so  hurriedly.  Some  thocht  you  wasna 
weel,  but  Lang  Tammas — " 

"Thomas  Whamond  is  too  officious,"  Gavin  said,  with  dig- 
nity.    "I  forbid  you,  Nanny,  to  repeat  his  story." 

"But  what  made  you  change  your  text  ?"  asked  Babbie, 

"You  see  he  winna  tell,"  Nanny  said,  wistfully.  "Ay, 
I  dinna  deny  but  what  I  would  like  richt  to  ken.  But  the 
session's  as  puzzled  as  yoursel',  Babbie." 

"Perhaps  more  puzzled,"  answered  the  Egyptian,  with  a 
smile  that  challenged  Gavin's  frowns  to  combat  and  over- 
throw them.  "What  surprises  me,  Mr.  Dishart,  is  that  such 
a  great  man  can  stoop  to  see  whether  women  are  pretty  or 
not.  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  remember  me  to-day.  I 
suppose  you  recognised  me  by  my  frock?" 

"By  your  face,"  he  replied,  boldly;  "by  your  eyes." 

"Nanny,"  exclaimed  the  Egyptian,  "did  you  hear  what 
the  minister  said?" 

"Woe  is  me,"  answered  Nanny,  "I  missed  it." 

"He  says  he  would  know  me  anywhere  by  my  eyes." 


90  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"So  would  I  myselV'   said  Nanny. 

''Then  what  colour  are  they,  Mr.  Dishart?"  demanded 
Babbie.    "Don't  speak,  Nanny,  for  I  want  to  expose  him." 

She  closed  her  eyes  tightly.  Gavin  was  in  a  quandary. 
I  suppose  he  had  looked  at  her  eyes  too  long  to  know 
much  about  them. 

"Blue,"  he  guessed  at  last. 

"Na,  they're  black,"  said  Nanny,  who  had  doubtless 
known  this  for  an  hour.  I  am  always  marvelling  over  the 
cleverness  of  women,  as  every  one  must  see  who  reads  this 
story. 

"No  but  what  they  micht  be  blue  in  some  lichts,"  Nanny 
added,  out  of  respect  to  the  minister. 

"Oh,  don't  defend  him,  Nanny,"  said  Babbie,  looking 
reproachfully  at  Gavin.  "I  don't  see  that  any  minister  has  a 
right  to  denounce  women,  when  he  is  so  ignorant  of  his 
subject.  I  will  say  it,  Nanny,  and  you  need  not  kick  me 
beneath  the  table." 

Was  not  all  this  intoxicating  to  the  little  minister,  who 
had  never  till  now  met  a  girl  on  equal  terms?  At  twenty- 
one  a  man  is  a  musical  instrument  given  to  the  other  sex, 
but  it  is  not  as  instruments  learned  at  school,  for  when 
She  sits  down  to  it,  she  cannot  tell  what  tune  she  is  about 
to  play.  That  is  because  she  has  no  notion  of  what  the 
instrument  is  capable.  Babbie's  kind-heartedness,  her 
gaiety,  her  coquetry,  her  moments  of  sadness,  had  been  a 
witch's  fingers,  and  Gavin  was  still  trembling  under  their 
touch.  Even  in  being  taken  to  task  by  her  there  was  a 
charm,  for  every  pout  of  her  mouth,  every  shake  of  her 
head,  said,  "You  like  me,  and  therefore  you  have  given 
me  the  right  to  tease  you."  Men  sign  these  agreements 
without  reading  them.  But,  indeed,  man  is  a  stupid  animal 
at  the  best,  and  thinks  all  his  life  that  he  did  not  propose  until 
he  blurted  out,  "I  love  you." 

It  was  later  than  it  should  have  been  when  the  minister 
left  the  mud  house,  and  even  then  he  only  put  on  his  hat 
because  Babbie  said  that  she  must  go. 

"But  not  your  way,"  she  added.  "I  go  into  the  wood 
and  vanish.     You  know,  Nanny,  I  live  up  a  tree." 

"Dinna  say  that,"  said  Nanny,  anxiously,  "or  I'll  be 
fleid  about  the  siller." 

"Don't  fear  about  it.  Mr,  Dishart  will  get  some  of  it  to- 
morrow at  the  Kaims.  I  would  bring  it  here,  but  I  cannot 
come  so  far  to-morrow." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  91 

"Then  I'll  hae  peace  to  the  end  o'  my  days,"  said  the 
old  woman,  "and.  Babbie,  I  wish  the  same  to  you  wi'  all 
my  heart." 

"Ah,"  Babbie  replied,  mournfully,  "I  have  read  my  for- 
tune, Nanny,  and  there  is  not  much  happiness  in  it." 

"I  hope  that  is  not  true,"  Gavin  said,  simply. 

They  were  standing  at  the  door,  and  she  was  looking  to- 
wards the  hill,  perhaps  without  seeing  it.  All  at  once 
it  came  to  Gavin  that  this  fragile  girl  might  have  a  history 
far  sadder  and  more  turbulent  than  his. 

"Do  you  really  care  ?"  she  asked,  without  looking  at  him. 

"Yes,"   he   said,  stoutly,   "I   care." 

"Because  you  do  not  know  me,"  she  said. 

"Because  I  do  know  you,"  he  answered. 

Now   she    did   look   at    him. 

"I  believe,"  she  said,  making  a  discovery,  "that  you  mis- 
understand me  less  than  those  who  have  known  me  longer." 

This  was  a  perilous  confidence,  for  it  at  once  made 
Gavin  say  "Babbie." 

"Ah,"  she  answered,  frankly,  "I  am  glad  to  hear  that. 
I  thought  you  did  not  really  like  me,  because  you  never 
called  me  by  my  name." 

Gavin  drew  a  great  breath. 

"That  was  not  the  reason,"  he  said. 

The  reason  was  now  unmistakable. 

"I  was  wrong,"  said  the  Egyptian,  a  little  alarmed;  "you 
do  not  understand  me  at  all." 

She  returned  to  Nanny,  and  Gavin  set  off,  holding  his 
head  high,  his  brain  in  a  whirl.  Five  minutes  afterwards, 
when  Nanny  was  at  the  fire,  the  diamond  ring  on  her  little 
finger,  he  came  back,  looking  like  one  who  had  just  seen 
sudden  death. 

"I  had  forgotten,"  he  said,  with  a  fierceness  aimed  at 
himself,  "that  to-morrow  is  the  Sabbath." 

"Need  that  make  any  difference?"  asked  the  gypsy. 

"At  this  hour  on  Monday,"  said  Gavin  hoarsely,  "I  will 
be  at  the  Kaims." 

He  went  away  without  another  word,  and  Babbie  watched 
him  from  the  window.  Nanny  had  not  looked  up  from 
the  ring. 

"What  a  pity  he  is  a  minister!"  the  girl  said,  reflectively. 
"Nanny,  you  are  not  listening." 

The  old  woman  was  making  the  ring  flash  by  the  light 
of  the  fire. 


92  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Nanny,  do  you  hear  me?  Did  you  see  Mr.  Dishart 
come  back  ?" 

"I  heard  the  door  open,"  Nanny  answered,  without  taking 
her  greedy  eyes  off  the  ring.  "Was  it  him?  Whaur  did  you 
get  this,  lassie?" 

"Give  it  me  back,  Nanny,  I  am  going  now." 

But  Nanny  did  not  give  it  back;  she  put  her  other  hand 
over  it  to  guard  it,  and  there  she  crouched,  warming  her- 
self, not  at  the  fire,  but  at  the  ring. 

"Give  it  me,  Nanny." 

"It  winna  come  off  my  finger."  She  gloated  over  it, 
nursed  it,  kissed  it. 

"I  must  have  it,  Nanny." 

The  Egyptian  put  her  hand  lightly  on  the  old  woman's 
shoulder,  and  Nanny  jumped  up,  pressing  the  ring  to  her 
bosom.  Her  face  had  become  cunning  and  ugly;  she  re- 
treated into  a  corner. 

"Nanny,  give  me  back  my  ring  or  I  will  take  it  from 
you." 

The  cruel  light  of  the  diamond  was  in  Nanny's  eyes  for 
a  moment,  and  then,  shuddering,  she  said,  "Tak  your  ring 
awa,  tak  it  out  o'  my  sicht." 

In  the  meantime  Gavin  was  trudging  home  gloomily  com- 
posing his  second  sermon  against  women. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CONTINUED    MISBEHAVIOUR   OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    WOMAN. 

By  the  following  Monday  it  was  known  at  many  looms 
that  something  sat  heavily  on  the  Auld  Licht  minister's  mind. 
On  the  previous  day  he  had  preached  his  second  sermon 
of  warning  to  susceptible  young  men,  and  his  first  men- 
tion of  the  word  "woman"  had  blown  even  the  sleepy  heads 
upright.  Now  he  had  salt  fish  for  breakfast,  and  on  clear- 
ing the  table  Jean  noticed  that  his  knife  and  fork  were 
uncrossed.  He  was  observed  walking  into  a  gooseberry- 
bush  by  Susy  Linn,  who  possessed  the  pioneer  spring-bed 
of  Thrums,  and  always  knew  when  her  man  jumped  into 
it  by  suddenly  finding  herself  shot  to  the  ceiling.  Lunan, 
the  tinsmith,  and  two  women,  who  had  the  luck  to  be  in 
the  street  at  the  time,  saw  him  stopping  at  Doctor  McQueen's 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  93 


door,  as  if  about  to  knock,  and  then  turning  smartly 
away. 

Gavin,  indeed,  was  troubled.  He  had  avoided  speaking 
of  the  Egyptian  to  his  mother.  He  had  gone  to  McQueen's 
house  to  ask  the  doctor  to  accompany  him  to  the  Kaims, 
but,  with  the  knocker  in  his  hand,  he  changed  his  mind, 
and  now  he  was  at  the  place  of  meeting,  alone.  It  was 
a  3ay  of  thaw,  nothing  to  be  heard  from  a  distance  but 
the  swish  of  curling-stones  through  water  on  Rashie-bog, 
where  the  match  for  the  eldership  was  going  on.  Around 
him,  Gavin  saw  only  dejected  firs,  with  drops  of  water  falling 
listlessly  from  them,  clods  of  snow,  and  grass  that  rustled  as 
if  animals  were  crawling  through  it.  All  the  roads  were 
slack. 

I  suppose  no  young  man  to  whom  society  has  not  become 
a  cheap  thing  can  be  in  Gavin's  position,  awaiting  the 
coming  of  an  attractive  girl,  without  giving  thought  to  what 
he  should  say  to  her.  When  in  the  pulpit,  or  visiting  the 
sick,  words  came  in  a  rush  to  the  little  minister,  but  he 
had  to  set  his  teeth  to  determine  what  to  say  to  the  Egyptian. 

This  was  because  he  had  not  yet  decided  which  of  two 
women  she  was.  Hardly  had  he  started  on  one  line  of 
thought,  when  she  crossed  his  vision  in  a  new  light,  and 
drew  him  after  her. 

Her  "Need  that  make  any  difference?"  sang  in  his  ear 
like  another  divit,  cast  this  time  at  religion  itself,  and  now 
he  spoke  aloud,  pointing  his  finger  at  a  fir:  "I  said  at 
the  mud  house  that  I  believed  you  because  I  knew  you.  To 
my  shame  be  it  said  that  I  spoke  falsely.  How  dared  you 
bewitch  me?  In  your  presence  I  flung  away  the  precious 
hours  in  frivolity;  I  even  forgot  the  Sabbath.  For  this  I 
have  myself  to  blame.  I  am  an  unworthy  preacher  of  the 
Word.  I  sinned  far  more  than  you,  who  have  been  brought 
up  godlessly  from  your  cradle.  Nevertheless,  whoever  you 
are,  I  call  upon  you,  before  we  part,  never  to  meet  again, 
to  repent  of  your — " 

And  then  it  was  no  mocker  of  the  Sabbath  he  was  ad- 
dressing, but  a  woman  with  a  child's  face,  and  there  were 
tears  in  her  eyes.  "Do  you  care?"  she  was  saying,  and 
again  he  answered,  "Yes,  I  care."  This  girl's  name  was 
not  Woman,  but  Babbie. 

Now  Gavin  made  a  heroic  attempt  to  look  upon  both 
these  women  at  once.  "Yes,  I  believe  in  you,"  he  said  to 
them,  "but  henceforth  you  must  send  your  money  to  Nanny 


94  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

by  another  messenger.  You  are  a  gypsy  and  I  am  a 
minister ;  and  that  must  part  us.  I  refuse  to  see  you  again. 
I  am  not  angry  with  you,  but  as  a  minister — " 

It  was  not  the  disappearance  of  one  of  the  women  that 
clipped  this  argument  short;  it  was  Babbie  singing: 

"It  fell  on  a  day,  on  a  bonny  summer  day, 
When  the  corn  grew  green  and  yellow, 
That  there  fell  out  a  great  dispute 
Between  Argyle  and  Airly. 

"The  Duke  of  Montrose  has  written  to  Argyle 
To  come  in  the  morning  early, 
An'  lead  in  his  men  by  the  back  o'  Dunkeld 
To  plunder  the  bonny  house  o'  Airly." 

"Where  are  you?"  cried  Gavin,  in  bewilderment. 

"I  am  watching  you  from  my  window  so  high,"  answered 
the  Egyptian;  and  then  the  minister,  looking  up,  saw  her 
peering  at  him  from  a  fir. 

"How  did  you  get  up  there?"  he  asked,  in  amazement. 

"On  my  broomstick,"  Babbie  replied,  and  sang  on: 

"The  lady  looked  o'er  her  window  sae  high, 
And  oh !  but  she  looked  weary, 
And  there  she  espied  the  great  Argyle 

Come  to  plunder  the  bonny  house  o'  Airly." 

"What  are  you  doing  there?"  Gavin  said,  wrathfully. 

"This  is  my  home,"  she  answered.  "I  told  you  I  lived 
in  a  tree." 

"Come  down  at  once,"  ordered  Gavin.  To  which  tht 
singer  responded: 

"  'Come  down,  come  down.  Lady  Margaret,'  he  says ; 
'Come  down  and  kiss  me  fairly, 
Or  before  the  morning  clear  daylight 
ril  no  leave  a  standing  stane  in  Airly.'  " 

"If  you  do  not  come  down  this  instant,"  Gavin  said,  in 
a  rage,  "and  give  me  what  I  was  so  foolish  as  to  come  for, 
I—" 

The  Egyptian  broke  in: 

"  'I  wouldna  kiss  thee,  great  Argyle, 
I  wouldna  kiss  thee  fairly ; 
I  wouldna  kiss  thee,  great  Argyle, 
Gin  you  shouldna  leave  a  standing  stane  in  Airly.* " 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  95 

"You  have  deceived  Nanny/'  Gavin  cried,  hotly,  "and 
you  have  brought  me  here  to  deride  me.  I  will  have  no 
more  to  do  with  you." 

He  walked  away  quickly,  but  she  called  after  him,  "I  am 
coming  down.  I  have  the  money,"  and  next  moment  a 
snowball   hit  his  hat. 

"That  is  for  being  cross,"  she  explained,  appearing  so 
unexpectedly  at  his  elbow  that  he  was  taken  aback.  "I 
had  to  come  close  up  to  you  before  I  flung  it,  or  it  would 
have  fallen  over  my  shoulder.  Why  are  you  so  nasty  to- 
day? and,  oh,  do  you  know  you  were  speaking  to  yourself?" 

"You  are  mistaken,"  said  Gavin,  severely.  "I  was  speak- 
ing to  you." 

"You  didn't  see  me  till  I  began  to  sing,  did  you?" 

"Nevertheless  I  was  speaking  to  you,  or  rather  I  was 
saying   to   myself   what — " 

"What  you  had  decided  to  say  to  me?"  said  the  delighted 
gypsy.  "Do  you  prepare  your  talk  like  sermons?  I  hope 
you  have  prepared  something  nice  for  me.  If  it  is  very 
nice,  I  may  give  you  this  bunch  of  holly." 

She  was  dressed  as  he  had  seen  her  previously,  but  for 
a  cluster  of  holly  berries  at  her  breast. 

"I  don't  know  that  you  will  think  it  nice,"  the  minister 
answered,   slowly,   "but  my   duty — " 

"If  it  is  about  duty,"  entreated  Babbie,  "don't  say  it. 
Don't,  and  I  will  give  you  the  berries." 

She  took  the  berries  from  her  dress,  smiling  triumphantly 
the  while  like  one  who  had  discovered  a  cure  for  duty; 
and  instead  of  pointing  the  finger  of  wrath  at  her,  Gavin 
stood  expectant. 

"But  no,"  he  said,  remembering  who  he  was,  and  pushing 
the  gift  from  him,  "I  will  not  be  bribed.  I  must  tell 
you—" 

"Now,"  said  the  Egyptian,  sadly,  "I  see  you  are  angry 
with  me.  Is  it  because  I  said  I  lived  in  a  tree?  Do  for- 
give me  for  that  dreadful  lie." 

She  had  gone  on  her  knees  before  he  could  stop  her, 
and  was  gazing  imploringly  at  him.  with  her  hands  clasped. 

"You  are  mocking  me  again,"  said  Gavin,  "but  I  am  not 
angry  with  you.     Only  you  must  understand — " 

She  jumped  up  and  put  her  fingers  to  her  ears. 

"You  see  I  can  hear  nothing,"  she  said. 

"Listen  while  I  tell  you — " 

"I   don't  hear  a  word.     Why  do  you  scold  me  when  I 


96  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

have  kept  my  promise?  If  I  dared  to  take  my  fingers  from 
my  ears  I  would  give  you  the  money  for  Nanny.  And, 
Mr.  Dishart,  I  must  be  gone  in  five  minutes." 

"In  five  minutes,"'  echoed  Gavin,  with  such  a  dismal  face 
that  Babbie  heard  the  words  with  her  eyes,  and  dropped 
her  hands. 

"Why  are  you  in  such  haste?"  he  asked,  taking  the  five 
pounds  mechanically,  and  forgetting  all  that  he  had  meant 
to  say. 

"Because  they  require  me  at  home,"  she  answered,  with 
a  sly  glance  at  her  fir.  "And,  remember,  when  I  run 
away  you  must  not  follow  me." 

"I  won't,"  said  Gavin,  so  promptly  that  she  was  piqued. 

"Why  not?"  she  asked.  "But  of  course  you  only  came 
here  for  the  money.     Well,  you  have  got  it.     Good-bye." 

"You  know  that  was  not  what  I  meant,"  said  Gavin^ 
stepping  after  her.  "I  have  told  you  already  that,  what- 
ever other  people  say,  I  trust  you.    I  believe  in  you,  Babbie.'* 

"Was  that  what  you  were  saying  to  the  tree?"  asked  the 
Egyptian,  demurely.  Then,  perhaps  thinking  it  wisest  not 
to  press  this  point,  she  continued,  irrelevantly,  "It  seems 
such  a  pity  that  you  are  a  minister." 

"A  pity  to  be  a  minister!"  exclaimed  Gavin,  indignantly. 
"Why,  why,  you, — why.  Babbie,  how  have  you  been  brought 
«p?" 

"In  a  curious  way,"  Babbie  answered,  shortly,  "but  I 
can't  tell  you  about  that  just  now.  Would  you  like  to 
hear  all  about  me?"  Suddenly  she  seemed  to  have  become 
confidential. 

"Do  you  really  think  me  a  gypsy?"  she  asked. 

"I  have  tried  not  to  ask  myself  that  question." 

"Why  ?" 

"Because  it  seems  like  doubting  your  word." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can  think  of  me  at  all  without  won- 
dering who  I  am." 

"No,  and  so  I  try  not  to  think  of  you  at  all." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  that  you  need  do  that." 

"I  have  not  quite  suc.eedcd." 

The  Egyptian's  pique  had  vanished,  but  she  may  have 
thought  that  the  conversation  was  becoming  dangerous,  fof 
she  said,  abruptly: 

"Well,  I  sometimes  think  about  you." 

"Do  you?"  said  Gavin,  absurdly  gratified.  "What  do  you 
think  about  me  ?" 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  97 

"I  wonder,"  answered  the  Egyptian,  pleasantly,  "which 
of  us  is  the  taller." 

Gavin's  fingers  twitched  with  mortification,  and  not  only 
his  fingers  but  his  toes. 

"Let  us  measure,"  she  said,  sweetly,  putting  her  back  to 
his.     "You  are  not  stretching  your  neck,  are  you?" 

But  the  minister  broke  away  from  her. 

"There  is  one  subject,"  he  said,  with  great  dignity,  "that 
I  allow  no  one  to  speak  of  in  my  presence,  and  that  is  my — 
my  height." 

His  face  was  as  white  as  his  cravat  when  the  surprised 
Egyptian  next  looked  at  him,  and  he  was  panting  like  one 
who  had  run  a  mile.  She  was  ashamed  of  herself,  and 
said  so. 

"It  is  a  topic  I  would  rather  not  speak  about,"  Gavin 
answered,  dejectedly,  "especially  to  you." 

He  meant  that  he  would  rather  be  a  tall  man  in  her 
company  than  in  any  other,  and  possibly  she  knew  this, 
though  all  she  answered  was : 

"You  wanted  to  know  if  I  am  really  a  gypsy.  Well,  I 
am." 

"An  ordinary  gypsy?" 

"Do  you  think  me  ordinary?" 

"I  wish  I  knew  what  to  think  of  you." 

"Ah,  well,  that  is  my  forbidden  topic.  But  we  have  a 
good  many  ideas  in  common,  after  all,  have  we  not,  though 
you  are  only  a  minis —  I  mean,  though  I  am  only  a  gypsy?" 
There  fell  between  them  a  silence  that  gave  Babbie  time 
to  remember  she  must  go. 

"I  have  already  stayed  too  long,"  she  said.  "Give  my 
love  to  Nanny,  and  say  that  I  am  coming  to  see  her  soon, 
perhaps  on  Monday.  I  don't  suppose  you  will  be  there  on 
Monday,  Mr.  Dishart?" 

"I — I  cannot  say." 

"No,  you  will  be  too  busy.  Are  you  to  take  the  holly 
berries?" 

"I  had  better  not,"  said  Gavin,  dolefully. 

"Oh,  if  you  don't  want  them — " 

"Give  them  to  me,"  he  said,  and  as  he  took  them  his  hand 
shook. 

"I  know  why  you  are  looking  so  troubled,"  said  the 
Egyptian,  archly.  "You  think  I  am  to  ask  you  the  colour 
of  my  eyes,  and  you  have  forgotten  again." 

He  would  have  answered,  but  she  checked  him. 


98  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

'"Make  no  pretence,"  she  said,  severely;  "I  know  you 
think  they  are  blue." 

She  came  close  to  him  until  her  face  almost  touched  his. 

"Look  hard  at  them,"  she  said,  solemnly,  "and  after  this 
you  may  remember  that  they  are  black,  black,  black !" 

At  each  repetition  of  the  word  she  shook  her  head  in  his 
face.  She  was  adorable.  Gavin's  arms — but  they  met  on 
nothing.    She  had  run  away. 

When  the  little  minister  had  gone,  a  man  came  from 
behind  a  tree  and  shook  his  list  in  the  direction  taken  by 
the  gypsy.     It  was  Rob  Dow,  black  with  passion. 

"It's  the  Egyptian !"  he  cried.  "You  limmer,  wha  are 
you  that  hae  got  baud  o'  the  minister?" 

He  pursued  her,  but  she  vanished  as  from  Gavin  in 
Windyghoul. 

"A  common  Egyptian !"  he  muttered,  when  he  had  to 
give  up  the  search.  "But  take  care,  you  little  devil,"  he 
called  aloud;  "take  care;  if  I  catch  you  playing  pranka 
wi'  that  man  again,  I'll  wring  your  neck  like  a  hen's !" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

CADDAM LOVE    LEADING    TO    A    RUPTURE. 

Gavin  told  himself  not  to  go  near  the  mud  house  on  the 
following  Monday;  but  he  went.  The  distance  is  half  a 
mile,  and  the  time  he  took  was  two  hours.  Desires  permitted 
him  to  halt,  as  if  to  argue  the  matter  out,  but  were  thu? 
tolerant  merely  because  from  where  he  stood  he  could  see 
Nanny's  doorway.  When  Babbie  emerged  from  it  reason 
seems  to  have  made  one  final  effort,  for  Gavin  quickly  took 
that  side  of  a  tree  which  is  loved  of  squirrels  at  the  approach 
of  an  enemy.  He  looked  round  the  tree-trunk  at  her,  and 
then  reason  discarded  him.  The  gypsy  had  two  empty  pans 
in  her  hands.  For  a  second  she  gazed  in  the  minister's 
direction,  then  demurely  leaped  the  ditch  of  leaves  that  sep- 
arated Nanny's  yard  from  Caddam,  and  strolled  into  the 
wood.  Discovering  with  indignation  that  he  had  been  skulk- 
ing behind  the  tree,  Gavin  came  into  the  open.  How  good  of 
the  Egyptian,  he  reflected,  to  go  to  the  well  for  water, 
and  thus  save  the  old  woman's  arms !  Reason  shouted  from 
near  the   manse    (he   only  heard   the   echo)    that   he  could 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  99 

still  make  up  on  it.  "Come  along,"  said  his  desires,  and 
marched  him  prisoner  to  the  well. 

"How  curious  that  we  should  have  met  here,"  Babbie  said, 
in  her  dangerously  friendly  way,  as  they  filled  the  pans.  "Do 
you  know  I  quite  started  when  your  shadow  fell  suddenly 
on  the  stone.  Did  you  happen  to  be  passing  through  the 
wood  ?" 

"No,"  answered  truthful  Gavin,  "I  was  looking  for  you. 
I  thought  you  saw   me   from  Nanny's  door." 

"Did  you  ?  I  only  saw  a  man  hiding  behind  a  tree,  and 
of  course  I  knew  it  could  not  be  you." 

Gavin  looked  at  her  sharply,  but  she  was  not  laughing  at 
him. 

"It  was  I,"  he  admitted;  "but  I  was  not  exactly  hiding 
behind  the  tree." 

"You  had  only  stepped  behind  it  for  a  moment,"  sug- 
gested the  Eg>'ptian. 

Her  gravity  gave  way  to  laughter  under  Qavin's  sus- 
picious looks,  but  the  laughing  ended  abruptly.  She  had 
heard  a  noise  in  the  wood.  Gavin  heard  it,  too,  and  they 
both  turned  round  in  time  to  see  two  ragged  boys  running 
from  them.  When  boys  are  very  happy  they  think  they  must 
be  doing  wrong,  and  in  a  wood,  of  which  they  are  among 
the  natural  inhabitants,  they  always  take  flight  from  the 
enemy,  adults,  if  given  time.  For  my  own  part,  when  I 
see  a  boy  drop  from  a  tree  I  am  as  little  surprised  as  if 
he  were  an  apple  or  a  nut.  But  Gavin  was  startled,  pic- 
turing these  spies  handing  in  the  new  sensation  about  him 
at  every  door,  as  a  district  visitor  distributes  tracts.  The 
gypsy  noted  his  uneasiness,  and  resented  it. 

"What  does  it  feel  like  to  be  afraid?"  she  asked,  eyeing 
him. 

"I  am  afraid  of  nothing,"  Gavin  answered,  offended  in 
turn. 

"Yes,  you  are.  When  you  saw  me  come  out  of  Nanny's 
you  crept  behind  a  tree ;  when  these  boys  showed  them- 
selves you  shook.  You  are  afraid  of  being  seen  with  me. 
Go  away,  then;  I  don't  want  you." 

"Fear,"  said  Gavin,  "is  one  thing,  and  prudence  is  an- 
other." 

"Another  name  for  it,"  Babbie  interposed. 

"Not  at  all;  but  I  owe  it  to  my  position  to  be  careful. 
Unhappily  you  do  not  seem  to  feel — to  recognise — to  know--" 

"To  know  what?" 


100  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

— ^-^— ^— — ~"^"^^— ^^■^"^^^— ^^— "^^ ~~"~~~— ^™^"'*^~^— ^— ■^■^■^^ 

"Let  us  avoid  the  subject." 

"No,"  the  Egyptian  said,  petulantly.  "I  hate  not  to  be 
told  things.     Why  must  you  be  "prudent?'" 

"You  should  see,"  Gavin  replied,  awkwardly,  "that  there 
is  a — a  difference  between  a  minister  and  a  gypsy." 

"But  if  I  am  willing  to  overlook  it?"  asked  Babbie,  im- 
pertinently. 

Gavin  beat  the  brushwood  mournfully  with  his  staff. 

"I  cannot  allow  you,"  he  said,  "to  talk  disrespectfully  of 
my  calling.     It  is  the  highest  a  man  can  follow.    I  wish — " 

He  checked  himself;  but  he  was  wishing  she' could  see  him 
in  his  pulpit. 

"I  suppose,"  said  the  gypsy,  reflectively,  "one  must  be  very 
clever  to  be  a  minister." 

"As  for  that — "  answered  Gavin,  waving  his  hand  grandly. 

"And  it  must  be  nice,  too,"  continued  Babbie,  "to  be  able 
to  speak  for  a  whole  hour  to  people  who  can  neither  answer 
nor  go  away.  Is  it  true  that  before  you  begin  to  preach  you 
lock  the  door  to  keep  the  congregation  in?" 

"I  must  leave  you  if  you  talk  in  that  way." 

"I  only  wanted  to  know." 

"Oh,  Babbie,  I  am  afraid  you  have  little  acquaintance  with 
the  inside  of  churches.     Do  you  sit  under  anybody?" 

"Do  I  sit  under  anybody?"  repeated  Babbie,  blankly. 

Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  minister  sighed?  "Whom  do  you 
sit  under?"  was  his  form  of  salutation  to  strangers. 

"I  mean,  where  do  you  belong  ?"  he  said. 

"Wanderers,"  Babbie  answered,  still  misunderstanding  him, 
"belong  to  nowhere  in  particular." 

"I  am  only  asking  you  if  you  ever  go  to  church?" 

"Oh,  that  is  what  you  mean.    Yes,  I  go  often." 

"What  church?" 

"You  promised  not  to  ask  questions." 

"I  only  mean  what  denomination  do  you  belong  to?" 

"Oh,  the — the —  Is  there  an  English  church  denomina- 
tion?" 

Gavin  groaned. 

"Well,  that  is  my  denomination,"  said  Babbie,  cheerfully. 
"Some  day,  though,  I  am  coming  to  hear  you  preach.  I 
should  like  to  see  how  j'ou  look  in  your  gov/n." 

"We  don't  wear  gowns." 

"What  a  shame !  But  I  am  coming,  nevertheless.  I  used 
to  like  going  to  church  in  Edinburgh." 

"You  have  lived  in  Edinburgh?" 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  101 

"We  gypsies  have  lived  everywhere,"  Babbie  said,  lightly, 
though  she  was  annoyed  at  having  mentioned  Edinburgh. 

"But  all  gypsies  don't  speak  as  you  do,"  said  Gavin, 
puzzled  again.    "I  don't  understand  you." 

"Of  course  you  dinna,"  replied  Babbie,  in  broad  Scotch. 
"Maybe,  if  you  did,  you  would  think  that  it's  mair  impru- 
dent in  me  to  stand  here  cracking  clavers  wi'  the  minister 
than  for  the  minister  to  waste  his  time  cracking  wi'  me." 

"Then  why  do  it  ?" 

"Because —  Oh,  because  prudence  and  I  always  take 
different  roads." 

"Tell  me  who  you  are,  Babbie,"  the  minister  entreated ;  "at 
least  tell  me  where  your  encampment  is." 

"You  have  warned  me  against  imprudence,"  she  said. 

"I  want,"  Gavin  continued,  earnestly,  "to  know  your  people, 
your  father  and  mother." 

"Why  ?" 

"Because,"  he  answered,  stoutly,  "I  like  their  daughter." 

At  that  Babbie's  fingers  played  on  one  of  the  pans,  and, 
for  the  moment,  there  was  no  more  badinage  in  her. 

"You  are  a  good  man,"  she  said,  abruptly;  "but  you  will 
never  know  my  parents." 

"Are  they  dead?" 

"They  may  be;  I  cannot  tell." 

"This  is  all  incomprehensible  to  me." 

"I  suppose  it  is.  I  never  asked  any  one  to  understand 
me. 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Gavin,  excitedly:  "but  the  time  has 
come  when  I  must  know  everything  of  you  that  is  to  be 
known." 

Babbie  receded  from  him  in  quick  fear. 

"You  must  never  speak  to  me  in  that  way  again,"  she 
said,  in  a  warning  voice. 

"In  what  way  ?" 

Gavin  knew  what  way  very  well,  but  he  thirsted  to  hear 
in  her  words  what  his  own  had  implied.  She  did  not  choose 
to  oblige  him,  however. 

"You  will  never  understand  me,"  she  said.  "I  daresay  I 
might  be  more  like  other  people  now,  if — if  I  had  been 
brought  up  differently.  Not,"  she  added,  passionately,  "that 
I  want  to  be  like  others.  Do  you  never  feel,  when  you 
have  been  living  a  humdrum  life  for  months,  that  you  must 
break  out  of  it,  or  go  crazy?" 

Her  vehemence  alarmed  Gavin,  who  hastened  to  reply: 


102  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"My  life  is  not  humdrum.  It  is  full  of  excitement,  anx- 
ieties, pleasures,  and  I  am  too  fond  of  the  pleasures.  Perhaps 
it  is  because  I  have  more  of  the  luxuries  of  life  than  you 
that  I  am  so  content  with  my  lot." 

"Why,  what  can  you  know  of  luxuries?" 

"I  have  eighty  pounds  a  year." 

Babbie  laughed.  "Are  ministers  so  poor?"  she  asked, 
calling  back  her  gravity. 

"It  is  a  considerable  sum,"  said  Gavin,  a  little  hurt,  for 
it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  heard  any  one  speak  dis- 
respectfully of  eighty  pounds. 

The  Egyptian  looked  down  at  her  ring,  and  smiled. 

"I  shall  always  remember  your  saying  that,"  she  told  him, 
"after  we  have  quarrelled." 

"We  shall  not  quarrel,"  Gavin  said,  decidedly. 

"Oh,  yes,  we  shall." 

"We  might  have  done  so  once,  but  we  know  each  other  too 
well  now." 

"That  is  why  we  are  to  quarrel." 

"About  what?"  said  the  minister.  "I  have  not  blamed 
you  for  deriding  my  stipend,  though  how  it  can  seem  small 
in  the  eyes  of  a  gypsy — " 

"Who  can  afford,"  broke  in  Babbie,  "to  give  Nanny  seven 
shillings  a  week  ?" 

"True,"  Gavin  said,  uncomfortably,  while  the  Egyptian 
again  toyed  with  her  ring.  She  was  too  impulsive  to  be 
reticent  except  now  and  then,  and  suddenly  she  said, 
"You  have  looked  at  this  ring  before  now.  Do  you  know 
that  if  you  had  it  on  your  finger  you  would  be  more 
worth  robbing  than  with  eighty  pounds  in  each  of  your 
pockets  ?" 

"Where  did  you  get  it,"  demanded  Gavin,  fiercely. 

"I  am  sorry  I  told  you  that,"  the  gyspy  said,  regretfully. 

"Tell  me  how  you  got  it?"  Gavin  insisted,  his  face  now 
hard. 

"Now,  you  see,  we  are  quarrelling." 

"I  must  know." 

"Must  know  !    You  forget  yourself,"  she  said,  haughtily. 

"No,  but  I  have  forgotten  myself  too  long.  Where  did 
you  get  that  ring?" 

"Good  afternoon  to  you,"  said  the  Egyptian,  lifting  her 
pans. 

"It  is  not  good  afternoon,"  he  cried,  detaining  her,  "It  is 
good-bye  for  ever,  unless  you  answer  me." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  103 

^^■^— ™— ^■'— — ■~~— — ■^— ■"— — ^■■^— — ■~~'^^"™~— — — — ~^-~*f 

"As  you  please,"  she  said.  "I  will  not  tell  you  where  I 
got  my  ring.    It  is  no  affair  of  yours." 

"Yes,  Babbie,  it  is." 

She  was  not,  perhaps,  greatly  grieved  to  hear  him  say  so, 
for  she  made  no  answer. 

"You  are  no  gypsy,"  he  continued,  suspiciously. 

"Perhaps  not,"  she  answered,  again  taking  the  pans. 

"This  dress  is  but  a  disguise." 

"It  may  be.    Why  don't  you  go  away  and  leave  me  ?" 

"I  am  going,"  he  replied,  wildly.  "I  will  have  no  more  to 
do  with  you.     Formerly  I  pitied  you,  but — " 

He  could  not  have  used  a  word  more  calculated  to  rouse 
the  Egyptian's  ire,  and  she  walked  away  with  her  head  erect. 
Only  once  did  she  Look  back,  and  it  was  to  say : 

"This  is  prudence — now." 


CHAPTER  XVin. 

CIRCUMSTANCES  LEADING   TO   THE  FIRST  SERMON   IN   APPROVAL 
OF  WOMEN. 

A  YOUNG  man  thinks  that  he  alone  of  mortals  is  impervious 
to  love,  and  so  the  discovery  that  he  is  in  it  suddenly  alters 
his  views  of  his  own  mechanism.  It  is  thus  not  unlike  a  rap 
on  the  funny-bone.  Did  Gavin  make  this  discovery  when  the 
Egyptian  left  him?  Apparently  he  only  came  to  the  brink 
of  it  and  stood  blind.  He  had  driven  her  from  him  for  ever, 
and  his  sense  of  loss  was  so  acute  that  his  soul  cried  out  for 
the  cure  rather  than  for  tlie  name  of  the  malady. 

In  time  he  would  have  realised  what  had  happened,  but 
ttime  was  denied  him,  for  just  as  he  was  starting  for  the 
mud  house  Babbie  saved  his  dignity  by  returning  to  him.  It 
was  not  her  custom  to  fix  her  eyes  on  the  ground  as  she 
walked,  but  she  was  doing  so  now,  and  at  the  same  time 
swinging  the  empty  pans.  Doubtless  she  had  come  back  for 
more  water,  in  the  "belief  that  Gavin  had  gone.  He  pro- 
nounced her  name  with  a  sense  of  guilt,  and  she  looked  up 
surprised,  or  seemingly  surprised,  to  find  him  still  there. 

"I  thought  you  had  gone  away  long  ago,"  she  said,  stiffly. 

"Otherwise,"  asked  Gavin,  the  dejected,  "you  would  not 
have  come  back  to  the  well  ?" 

"Certainly  not." 


104  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"I  am  very  sorry.  Had  you  waited  another  moment  I 
should  have  been  gone," 

This  was  said  in  apology,  but  the  wilful  Egyptian  chose  to 
change  its  meaning. 

"You  have  no  right  to  blame  me  for  disturbing  you,"  she 
declared,  with  warmth. 

"I  did  not.    I  only—" 

"You  could  have  been  a  mile  away  by  this  time.  Nanny 
wanted  more  water." 

Babbie  scrutinised  the  minister  sharply  as  she  made  this 
statement.  Surely  her  conscience  troubled  her,  for  on  his 
not  answering  immediately  she  said,  "Do  you  presume  to  dis- 
believe me?  What  could  have  made  me  return  except  to  fill 
the  pans  again?" 

"Nothing,"  Gavin  admitted,  eagerly,  "and  I  assure  you — " 

Babbie  should  have  been  grateful  to  his  denseness,  but  it 
merely  set  her  mind  at  rest. 

"Say  anything  against  me  you  choose,"  she  told  him.  "Say 
it  as  brutally  as  you  like,  for  I  won't  listen." 

She  stopped  to  hear  his  response  to  that,  and  she  looked 
so  cold  that  it  almost  froze  on  Gavin's  lips. 

"I  had  no  right,"  he  said,  dolefully,  "to  speak  to  you  as 
I  did." 

"You  had  not,"  answered  the  proud  Egyptian.  She  was 
looking  away  from  him  to  show  that  his  repentance  was  not 
even  interesting  to  her.  However,  she  had  forgotten  already 
not  to  listen. 

"What  business  is  it  of  mine?"  asked  Gavin,  amazed  at 
his  late  presumption,  "whether  you  are  a  gypsy  or  no?" 

"None  whatever." 

"And  as  for  the  ring — " 

Here  he  gave  her  an  opportunity  of  allowing  that  his 
curiosity  about  the  ring  was  warranted.  She  declined  to 
help  him,  however,  and  so  he  had  to  go  on. 

"The  ring  is  yours,"  he  said,  "and  why  should  you  not 
wear  it?" 

"Why,  indeed?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  have  a  very  bad  temper." 

He  paused  for  a  contradiction,  but  she  nodded  her  head 
in  agreement. 

"And  it  is  no  wonder,"  he  continued,  "that  you  think  me 
a — a  brute." 

"I'm  sure  it  is  not." 

"But,  Babbie,  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  despise  myself  for 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  105 

my  base  suspicions.  No  sooner  did  I  see  them  than  I  loathed 
them  and  myself  for  harbouring  them.  Despite  this  mystery, 
I  look  upon  you  as  a  noble-hearted  girl.  I  shall  always  think 
of  you  so." 

This  time  Babbie  did  not  reply. 

"That  was  all  I  had  to  say,"  concluded  Gavin,  "except  that 
I  hope  you  will  not  punish  Nanny  for  my  sins.     Good-bye." 

"Good-bye,"  said  the  Egyptian,  who  was  looking  at  the 
well. 

The  minister's  legs  could  not  have  heard  him  give  the  order 
to  march,  for  they  stood  waiting. 

'T  thought,"  said  the  Egyptian,  after  a  moment,  "that 
you  said  you  were  going." 

"I  was  only — brushing  my  hat,"  Gavin  answered  with  dig- 
nity.   "You  want  me  to  go?" 

She  bowed,  and  this  time  he  did  sef  off. 

"You  can  go  if  you  like,"  she  remarked  now. 

He  turned  at  this. 

"But  you  said — "  he  began,  diffidently. 

"No,  I  did  not,"  she  answered,  with  indignation. 

He  could  see  her  face  at  last. 

"You — you  are  crying!"  he  exclaimed,  in  bewilderment. 

"Because  you  are  so  unfeeling,"  sobbed  Babbie. 

"What  have  I  said,  what  have  I  done?"  cried  Gavin,  in 
an  agony  of  self-contempt.  "Oh,  that  I  had  gone  away  at 
once!" 

"That  is  cruel." 

"What  is  ?" 

"To  say  that." 

"What  did  I  say?" 

"That  you  wished  you  had  gone  away." 

"But  surely,"  the  minister  faltered,  "you  asked  me  to 
go. 

"How  can  you  say  so?"  asked  the  gypsy,  reproachfully. 

Gavin  was  distracted.  "On  my  word,"  he  said,  earnestly, 
'I  thought  you  did.  And  now  I  have  made  you  unhappy. 
Babbie,  I  wish  I  were  anybody  but  myself;  I  am  a  hopeless 
lout." 

"Now  you  are  unjust,"  said  Babbie,  hiding  her  face. 

"Again?    To  you?" 

"No,  you  stupid,"  she  said,  beaming  on  him  in  her  most 
delightful  manner,  "to  yourself !" 

She  gave  him  both  her  hands  impetuously,  and  he  did 
not  let  them  go  until  she  added : 


106  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


"I  am  so  glad  that  you  are  reasonable  at  last.  Men  are 
so  much  more  unreasonable  than  women,  don't  you  think  ?" 

"Perhaps  we  are,"  Gavin  said,  diplomatically, 

"Of  course  you  are.  Why,  every  one  knows  that.  Well, 
I  forgive  you;  only  remember,  you  have  admitted  that  it 
was  all  your  fault?" 

She  was  pointing  her  finger  at  him  like  a  schoolmistress, 
and  Gavin  hastened  to  answer  : 

"You  were  not  to  blame  at  all." 

"I  like  to  hear  you  say  that,"  explained  the  representative 
of  the  more  reasonable  sex,  "because  it  was  really  all  my 
fault." 

"No,  no." 

"Yes,  it  was;  but  of  course  I  could  not  say  so  until  you 
had  asked  my  pardon.    You  must  understand  that  ?" 

The  representative  of  the  less  reasonable  sex  could  not 
understand  it,  but  he  agreed  recklessly,  and  it  seemed  so 
plain  to  the  woman  that  she  continued,  confidentially : 

"I  pretended  that  I  did  not  want  to  make  it  up,  but  I  did." 

"Did  you?"  asked  Gavin,  elated. 

"Yes,  but  nothing  could  have  induced  me  to  make  the  first 
advance.    You  see  why  ?" 

"Because  I  was  so  unreasonable?"  asked  Gavin,  doubtfully. 

"Yes,  and  nasty.    You  admit  you  were  nasty  ?" 

"Undoubtedly,  I  have  an  evil  temper.  It  has  brought  me 
to  shame  many  times." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  the  Egyptian,  charitably.  "I  like 
it.    I  believe  I  admire  bullies." 

"Did  I  bully  you?" 

"I  never  knew  such  a  bully.    You  quite  frightened  me." 

Gavin  began  to  be  less  displeased  with  himself. 

"You  are  sure,"  inquired  Babbie,  "that  you  had  no  right 
to  question  me  about  the  ring?" 

"Certain,"  answered  Gavin. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,"  said  Babbie,  "for  it  is 
natural  that  you  should  want  to  know." 

He  looked  eagerly  at  her,  and  she  had  become  serious  and 
sad. 

"I  must  tell  you  at  the  same  time,"  she  said,  "who  I  am, 
and  then — then  we  shall  never  see  each  other  any  more." 

"Why  should  you  tell  me?"  cried  Gavin,  his  hand  rising 
to  stop  her. 

"Because  you  have  a  right  to  know,"  she  replied,  now  too 
tnuch  in  earnest  to  see  that  she  was  yielding  a  point.     "I 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  107 

should  prefer  not  to  tell  you :  yet  there  is  nothing  wrong  in 
my  secret,  and  it  may  make  you  think  of  me  kindly  when  I 
have  gone  away." 

"Don't  speak  in  that  way,  Babbie,  after  you  have  for- 
given me." 

"Did  I  hurt  you?  It  was  only  because  I  know  that  you 
cannot  trust  me  while  I  remain  a  mystery.  I  know  you  would 
try  to  trust  me,  but  doubts  would  cross  your  mind.  Yes,  they 
would;  they  are  the  shadows  that  mysteries  cast.  Who  can 
believe  a  gypsy  if  the  odds  are  against  her?" 

"I  can,"  said  Gavin ;  but  she  shook  her  head,  and  so  would 
he  had  he  remembered  three  recent  sermons  of  his  own 
preaching. 

"I  had  better  tell  you  all,"  she  said,  with  an  effort. 

"It  is  my  turn  now  to  refuse  to  listen  to  you,"  exclaimed 
Gavin,  who  was  only  a  chivalrous  boy.  "Babbie,  I  should  like 
to  hear  your  story,  but  until  you  want  to  tell  it  to  me  I  will 
not  listen  to  it.  I  have  faith  in  your  honour,  and  that  is 
sufficient." 

It  was  boyish,  but  I  am  glad  Gavin  said  it;  and  now  Babbie 
admired  something  in  him  that  deserved  admiration.  His 
faith,  no  doubt,  made  her  a  better  woman. 

"I  admit  that  I  would  rather  tell  you  nothing  just  now," 
she  said,  gratefully.  "You  are  sure  you  will  never  say 
again  that  you  don't  imderstand  me  ?" 

"Quite  sure,"  said  Gavin,  bravely.  "And  by  and  by  you 
will  offer  to  tell  me  of  your  free  will  ?" 

"Oh,  don't  let  us  think  of  the  future,"  answered  Babbie. 
''Let  us  be  happy  for  the  moment." 

This  had  been  the  Egyptian's  philosophy  always,  but  it 
was  ill-suited  for  Auld  Licht  ministers,  as  one  of  them  was 
presently  to  discover. 

"I  want  to  make  one  confession,  though,"  Babbie  con- 
tinued, almost  reluctantly.  "When  you  were  so  nasty  a  little 
while  ago,  I  didn't  go  back  to  Nanny's.  I  stood  watching  you 
from  behind  a  tree,  and  then,  for  an  excuse  to  come  back, 
I — I  poured  out  the  water.  Yes,  and  I  told  you  another  lie. 
I  really  came  back  to  admit  that  it  was  all  my  fault,  if  I  could 
not  get  you  to  say  that  it  was  yours.  I  am  so  glad  you  gave 
in  first." 

She  was  very  near  him,  and  the  tears  had  not  yet  dried 
on  her  eyes.  They  were  laughing  eyes,  eyes  in  distress,  im- 
ploring eyes.  Her  pale  face,  smiling,  sad,  dimpled,  yet  en- 
treating  forgiveness,   was  the   one  prominent  thing  in  the 


108  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

world  to  him  just  then.  He  wanted  to  kiss  her.  He  would 
have  done  it  as  soon  as  her  eyes  rested  on  his,  but  she  con- 
tinued, without  regarding  him : 

"How  mean  that  sounds !  Oh,  if  I  were  a  man  I  should 
wish  to  be  everj-thing  that  I  am  not,  and  nothing  that  I  am. 
I  should  scorn  to  be  a  liar,  I  should  choose  to  be  open  in  all 
things,  I  should  try  to  fight  the  world  honestly.  But  I  am  only 
a  woman,  and  so — well,  that  is  the  kind  of  man  I  should  like 
to  marry." 

"A  minister  may  De  all  these  things,"  said  Gavin,  breath- 
lessly. 

"The  man  I  could  love,"  Babbie  went  on,  not  heeding 
him,  almost  forgetting  that  he  was  there,  "must  not  spend 
his  days  in  idleness  as  the  men  I  know  do." 

"I  do  not." 

"He  must  be  brave,  no  mere  worker  among  others,  but  a 
leader  of  men. ' 

"All  ministers  are." 

"Who  makes  his  influence  felt." 

"Assuredly.'' 

"And  takes  the  side  of  the  weak  against  the  strong,  even 
though  the  strong  be  in  the  right." 

"Always  my  tendency." 

"A  man  who  has  a  mind  of  his  own,  and  having  onci 
made  it  up  stands  to  it  in  defiance  even  of — " 

"Of  his  session." 

"Of  the  world.    He  must  understand  me." 

"I  do." 

"And  be  my  master." 

"It  is  his  lawful  position  in  the  house." 

"He  must  not  yield  to  my  coaxing  or  tempers." 

"It  would  be  weakness." 

"But  compel  me  to  do  his  bidding;  yes,  even  thrash  me 
if—" 

"If  you  won't  listen  to  reason.  Babbie,"  cried  Gavin,  "I 
am  that  man  I" 

Here  the  inventory  abruptly  ended,  and  these  two  people 
found  themselves  staring  at  each  other,  as  if  of  a  sudden 
they  had  heard  something  dreadful.  I  do  not  know  how  long 
they  stood  thus,  motionless  and  horrified.  I  cannot  tell  even 
which  stirred  first.  All  1  know  is  that  almost  simultaneously 
they  turned  from  each  other  and  hurried  out  of  the  wood 
in  opposite  directions, 


THE  LITTLE  IVnNISTER  109 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

END    OF   THE    STATE   OF    INDECISION. 

Long  before  I  had  any  thought  of  writing'  this  story,  I 
had  told  it  so  often  to  my  little  maid  that  she  now  knows 
some  of  it  better  than  I.  If  you  saw  me  looking  up  from 
my  paper  to  ask  her,  "What  was  it  that  Birse  said  to  Jean 
about  the  minister's  flowers?"  or,  "Where  was  Hendry  Munn 
hidden  on  the  night  of  the  riots?"  and  heard  her  confident 
answers,  you  would  conclude  that  she  had  been  in  the  thick 
of  these  events,  instead  of  born  many  years  after  them.  I 
mention  this  now  because  I  have  reached  a  point  where  her 
memory  contradicts  mine.  She  maintains  that  Rob  Dow  was 
told  of  the  meeting  in  the  wood  by  the  two  boys  whom  it 
disturbed,  while  my  own  impression  is  that  he  was  a  wit- 
ness of  it.  If  she  is  right,  Rob  must  have  succeeded  in 
frightening  the  boys  into  telling  no  other  person,  for 
certainly  the  scandal  did  not  spread  in  Thrums.  After 
all,  however,  it  is  only  important  to  know  that  Rob  did 
learn  of  the  meeting.  Its  first  effect  w^s  to  send  him  sul- 
lenly to  the  drink. 

Many  a  time  since  these  events  have  I  pictured  what  might 
have  been  their  upshot  had  Dow  confided  their  discovery 
to  me.  Had  I  suspected  why  Rob  was  grown  so  dour  again, 
Gavin's  future  might  have  been  very  different.  I  was  meet- 
ing Rob  now  and  again  in  the  glen,  asking,  with  an  affected 
carelessness  he  did  not  bottom,  for  news  of  the  little  min- 
ister, but  what  he  told  me  was  only  the  gossip  of  the 
town;  and  what  I  should  have  known,  that  Thrums  might 
never  know  it,  he  kept  to  himself.  I  suppose  he  feared^  to 
speak  to  Gavin,  who  made  several  efforts  to  reclaim  him, 
but  without  avail. 

Yet  Rob's  heart  opened  for  a  moment  to  one  man,  or 
rather  was  forced  open  by  that  man.  A  few  days  after  the 
meeting  at  the  well,  Rob  was  bringing  the  smell  of  whisky 
with  him  down  Banker's  Close  when  he  ran  against  a  famous 
staff,  with  which  the  doctor  pinned  him  to  the  wall. 

"Ay,"  said  the  outspoken  doctor,  looking  contemptuously 
into  Rob's  bleary  eyes,  "so  this  is  what  your  conversion 
amounts  to?  Faugh  1  Rob  Dow,  if  you  were  half  a  man  the 
very  thought  of  what  Mr.  Dishart  has  done  for  you  would 
make  you  run  past  the  public-houses." 


110  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"It's  the  thocht  o'  him  that  sends  me  running  to  them," 
growled  Rob,  knocking  down  the  staff.     "Let  me  alane." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  demanded  McQueen,  hooking: 
him  this  time. 

"Speir  at  himsel';  speir  at  the  woman." 

'^hat  woman?" 

"Take  your  staff  out  o'  my  neck." 

"Not  till  you  tell  me  why  you,  of  all  people,  are  speaking 
against  the  minister." 

Torn  by  a  desire  for  a  confidant  and  loyalty  to  Gavin,  Rob 
was  already  in  a  fury. 

"Say  again,"  he  burst  forth,  "that  I  was  speaking  agin 
the  minister  and  I'll  practise  on  you  what  I'm  awid  to  do 
to  her." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Wha's  wha?" 

"The  woman  whom  the  minister — " 

"I  said  nothing  about  a  woman,"  said  poor  Rob,  alarmed 
for  Gavin.  "Doctor,  I'm  ready  to  swear  afore  a  bailie  that 
1  never  saw  them  thegither  at  the  Kaims." 

"The  Kaims!"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  suddenly  enlightened. 
"Pooh !  you  only  mean  the  Egyptian.  Rob,  make  your  mind 
easy  about  this.     I  know  why  he  met  her  there." 

"Do  you  ken  that  she  has  bewitched  him;  do  you  ken 
I  saw  him  trying  to  put  his  arms  round  her;  do  you  ken 
they  have  a  trysting-place  in  Caddam  wood?" 

This  came  from  Rob  in  a  rush,  and  he  would  fain  have 
called  it  all  back. 

"I'm  drunk,  doctor,  roaring  drunk,"  he  said,  hastily,  "and 
it  wasna  the  minister  I  saw  ava ;  it  was  another  man." 

Nothing  more  could  the  doctor  draw  from  Rob,  but  he 
had  heard  sufficient  to  smoke  some  pipes  on.  Like  many 
who  pride  themselves  on  being  recluses,  McQueen  loved  the 
gossip  that  came  to  him  uninvited;  indeed,  he  opened  his 
mouth  to  it  as  greedily  as  any  man  in  Thrums.  He  re- 
spected Gavin,  however,  too  much  to  find  this  new  dish 
palatable,  and  so  his  researches  to  discover  whether  other 
Auld  Lichts  shared  Rob's  fears  were  conducted  with  cau- 
tion. "Is  there  no  word  of  your  minister's  getting  a  wife 
yet  ?"  he  asked  several,  but  only  got  for  answers,  "There's 
word  o'  a  Glasgow  ledd}'s  sending  him  baskets  o'  flowers," 
or  "He  has  his  een  open,  but  he's  taking  his  time;  ay,  he's 
looking  for  the  blade  o'  corn  in  the  stack  o'  chaff." 

This  convinced  McQueen  that  the  congregation  knew  noth- 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  111 

^■^— ^^^^^^^^™^i— °— ^^— ^^— ^™^— — ^^— — »— — ^^^"^■^■^^■— — ^ 

ing  of  the  Egyptian,  but  it  did  not  satisfy  him,  and  he 
made  an  opportunity  of  inviting  Gavin  into  the  surgery.  It 
was,  to  the  doctor,  the  cosiest  nook  in  his  house,  but  to  me 
and  many  others  a  room  that  smelled  of  hearses.  On  the 
top  of  the  pipes  and  tobacco  tins  that  littered  the  table  there 
usually  lay  a  death  certificate,  placed  there  deliberately  by 
the  doctor  to  scare  his  sister,  who  had  a  passion  for  putting 
the  surgery  to  rights. 

"By  the  way,"  McQueen  said,  after  he  and  Gavin  had 
talked  a  little  while,  "did  I  ever  advise  you  to  smoke?" 

"It  is  your  usual  form  of  salutation,"  Gavin  answered, 
laughing.  "But  I  don't  think  you  ever  supplied  me  with  a 
reason." 

"I  daresay  not.  I  am  too  experienced  a  doctor  to  cheapen 
my  prescriptions  in  that  way.  However,  here  is  one  good 
reason.  I  have  noticed,  sir,  that  at  your  age  a  man  is  either 
a  slave  to  a  pipe  or  to  a  woman.  Do  you  want  me  to  lend 
you  a  pipe  now?" 

"Then  I  am  to  understand,"  asked  Gavin,  slyly,  "that 
your  locket  came  into  your  possession  in  your  pre-smoking 
days,  and  that  you  merely  wear  it  from  habit?" 

"Tuts  !"  answered  the  doctor,  buttoning  his  coat.  "I  told 
you  there  was  nothing  in  the  locket.  If  there  is,  I  have  for- 
gotten what  it  is." 

"You  are  a  hopeless  old  bachelor,  I  see,"  said  Gavin,  un- 
aware that  the  doctor  was  probing  him.  He  was  surprised 
next  moment  to  find  McQueen  in  the  ecstasies  of  one  who 
has  won  a  rubber, 

"Now,  then,"  cried  the  jubilant  doctor,  "as  you  have  con- 
fessed so  much,  tell  me  all  about  her.  Name  and  address, 
please." 

"Confess  !     What  have  I  confessed  ?" 

"It  won't  do,  Mr.  Dishart,  for  even  your  face  betrays 
you.  No,  no,  I  am  an  old  bird,  but  I  have  not  forgotten 
the  ways  of  the  fledgelings.  'Hopeless  bachelor,'  sir,  is  a 
sweetmeat  in  every  young  man's  mouth  until  of  a  sudden  he 
finds  it  sour,  and  that  means  the  banns.     When  is  it  to  be?" 

"We  must  find  the  lady  first,"  said  the  minister,  uncom- 
fortably. 

"You  tell  me,  in  spite  of  that  face,  that  you  have  not 
fixed   on  her?" 

"The  difficulty,  I  suppose,  would  be  to  persuade  her  to 
fix  on  me." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.     But  vou  admit  there  is  some  one?" 


112  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


"Who  would  have  me?" 

"You  are  wrigghng  out  of  it.  Is  it  the  banker's  daugh- 
ter?" 

"No,"  Gavin  cried. 

"I  hear  you  have  walked  up  the  back  wynd  with  her  three 
times  this  week.     The  town  is  in  a  ferment  about  it." 

"She  is  a  great  deal  in  the  back  wynd." 

"Fiddle-de-dee !  I  am  oftener  in  the  back  wynd  than 
you,  and  I  never  meet  her  there." 

"That  is  curious." 

"No,  it  isn't,  but  never  mind.  Perhaps  you  have  fallen 
to  Miss  Pennycuick's  piano?  Did  you  hear  it  going  as  we 
passed  the  house?" 

"She  seems  always  to  be  playing  on  her  piano." 

"Not  she ;  but  you  are  supposed  to  be  musical,  and  so 
when  she  sees  you  from  her  window  she  begins  to  thump. 
If  I  am  in  the  school  wynd  and  hear  the  piano  going,  I 
know  you  will  turn  the  corner  immediately.  However,  I  am 
glad  to  hear  it  is  not  Miss  Pennycuick.  Then  it  is  the  factor 
at  the  Spittal's  lassie?  Well  done,  sir.  You  should  arrange 
to  have  the  wedding  at  the  same  time  as  the  old  earl's,  which 
comes   off  in  summer,   I   believe." 

"One  foolish  marriage  is  enough   in  a  day,  doctor." 

"Eh?  You  call  him  a  fool  for  marrying  a  young  wife? 
Well,  no  doubt  he  is,  but  he  would  have  been  a  bigger  fool 
to  marry  an  old  one.  However,  it  is  not  Lord  Rintoul  we  are 
discussing,  but  Gavin  Dishart.  I  suppose  you  know  that 
the  factor's  lassie  is  an  heiress?" 

"And,  therefore,  would   scorn  me." 

"Try  her,"  said  the  doctor,  drily.  "Her  father  and  mother, 
as  I  know,  married  on  a  ten-pound  note.  But  if  I  am  wrong 
again,  I  must  adopt  the  popular  view  in  Thrums.  It  is  a 
Glasgow  lady,  after  all?  Man,  you  needn't  look  indignant 
at  hearing  that  the  people  are  discussing  your  intended.  You 
can  no  more  stop  it  than  a  doctor's  orders  could  keep  Lang 
Tammas  out  of  church.  They  have  discovered  that  she  sends 
you  flowers  twice  every  week." 

"They  never  reach  me,"  answered  Gavin,  then  remembered 
the  holly  and  winced. 

"Some,"  persisted  the  relentless  doctor,  "even  speak  of  your 
having  been  seen  togethe';  but  of  course,  if  she  is  a  Glas- 
gow lady,  that  is  a  mistake." 

"Where  did  they  see  us?"  asked  Gavin,  with  a  sudden 
trouble  in  his  throat. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  113 


"You  are  shaking-,"  said  the  doctor,  keenly,  "like  a  medical 
student  at  his  first  operation.  But  as  for  the  story  that 
you  and  the  lady  have  been  seen  together,  I  can  guess  how 
it  arose.     Do  you  remember  that  gypsy  girl?" 

The  doctor  had  begun  by  addressing  the  fire,  but  he  sud- 
denly wheeled  round  and  fired  his  question  in  the  minister's 
face.     Gavin,  however,  did  not  even  blink. 

"Why  should  I   have   forgotten  her?"  he  replied,  coolly. 

"Oh,  in  the  stress  of  other  occupations.  But  it  was  your 
getting  the  money  from  her  at  the  Kaims  for  Nanny  that  I 
was  to  speak  of.  Absurd  though  it  seems,  I  think  some 
dotard  must  have  seen  you  and  her  at  the  Kaims,  and  mis- 
taken her  for  the  lady." 

McQueen  flung  himself  back  in  his  chair  to  enjoy  this 
joke. 

"Fancy  mistaking  that  woman  for  a  lady !"  he  said  to 
Gavin,  who  had  not  laughed  with  him. 

"I  think  Nanny  has  some  justification  for  considering  her 
a  lady,"  the  minister  said,  firmly. 

"Well,  I  grant  that.  But  what  made  me  guffaw  was  a 
vision  of  the  harum-scarum,  devil-may-care  little  Egyptian 
mistress  of  an  Auld  Licht  manse !" 

"She  is  neither  harum-scarum  nor  devil-may-care,"  Gavin 
answered,  without  heat,  for  he  was  no  longer  a  distracted 
minister.     "You  don't  understand  her  as  I  do." 

"No,   I   seem  to   understand  her  differently." 

"What  do  you  know  of  her?" 

"That  is  just  it,"  said  the  doctor,  irritated  by  Gavin's 
coolness.  "I  know  she  saved  Nanny  from  the  poorhouse,  but 
I  don't  know  where  she  got  the  money.  I  know  she  can 
talk  fine  English  when  she  chooses,  but  I  don't  know  where 
she  learned  it.  I  know  she  heard  that  the  soldiers  were 
coming  to  Thrums  before  they  knew  of  their  destination 
themselves,  but  I  don't  know  who  told  her.  You  who  under-* 
stand  her  can  doubtless  explain  these  matters?" 

"She  offered  to  explain  them  to  me,"  Gavin  answered,  still 
unmoved,  "but  I  forbade  her." 

;'Why?" 

"It  is  no  business  of  yours,  doctor.  Forgive  me  for  say- 
ing so." 

"In  Thrums,"  replied  McQueen,  "a  minister's  business  is 
everybody's  business.  I  have  often  wondered  who  helped  her 
to  escape  from  the  soldiers  that  night.  Did  she  offer  to 
explain  that  to  you?" 


114  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"She  did  not." 

'"Perhaps,"  said  the  doctor,  sharply,  "because  it  was  un- 
necessary ?"' 

"That   was  the  reason." 

"You  helped  her  to  escape?" 

"I  did." 

"And  you  are  not  ashamed  of  it?" 

"I   am  not." 

"Why  were  )'ou  so  anxious  to  screen  her?" 

"She  saved  some  of  my  people  from  g'aol." 

"Which  was  more  than  they  deserved." 

"I  have  always  understood  that  you  concealed  two  of 
them  in  your  own  stable." 

"Maybe  I  did,"  the  doctor  had  to  allow.  "But  I  took 
my  stick  to  them  next  morning.  Besides,  they  were  Thrums 
folks,  while  you  had  never  set  eyes  on  that  imp  of  mischief 
before." 

"I  cannot  sit  here,  doctor,  and  hear  her  called  names," 
Gavin  said,  rising,  but  McQueen  gripped  him  by  the  shoulder. 

"For  pity's  sake,  sir,  don't  let  us  wrangle  like  a  pair  of 
women.  I  brought  you  here  to  speak  my  mind  to  you,  and 
speak  it  I  will.  I  warn  you,  Mr.  Dishart,  that  you  are  being 
watched.  You  have  been  seen  meeting  this  lassie  in  Caddam 
as  well  as  at  the  Kaims." 

"Let  the  whole  town  watch,  doctor.  I  have  met  her 
openly." 

"And  why?     Oh,  don't  make  Nanny  your  excuse." 

"I  won't.     I  met  her  because  I  love  her." 

"Are  you  mad?"  cried  McQueen.  "You  speak  as  if  you 
would  marry  her." 

"Yes,"  replied  Gavin,  determinedly,  "and  I  mean  to  do  it." 

The  doctor  flung  up  his  hands. 

"I  give  you  up,"  he  said,  raging.  "I  give  you  up.  Think 
of  your  congregation,  man." 

"I  have  been  thinking  of  them,  and  as  soon  as  I  have  a 
right  to  do  so,  I  shall  tell  them  what  I  have  told  you." 

"And  until  you  tell  them  I  will  keep  your  madness  to 
myself,  for  I  warn  you  that,  as  soon  as  they  do  know,  there 
will  be  a  vacancy  in  the  Auld  Licht  kirk  of  Thrums." 

"She  is  a  woman,"  said  Gavin,  hesitating,  though  pre- 
paring to  go,  "of  whom  any  minister  might  be  proud." 

"She  is  a  woman,"  the  doctor  roared,  "that  no  congre- 
gation would  stand.     Oh,  if  you  will  go,  there  is  your  hat." 

Perhaps    Gavin's    face   was   whiter   as   he  left   the  house 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  115 

than  when  he  entered  it,  but  there  was  no  other  change. 
Those  who  were  watching  him  decided  that  he  was  looking 
much  as  usual,  except  that  his  mouth  was  shut  very  firm, 
from  which  they  concluded  that  he  had  been  taking  the 
doctor  to  task  for  smoking.  They  also  noted  that  he  re- 
turned to  McQueen's  house  within  half  an  hour  after  leaving 
it,  but  remained  no  time. 

Some  explained  this  second  visit  by  saying  that  the  min- 
ister had  forgotten  his  cravat,  and  had  gone  back  for  it. 
What  really  sent  him  back,  however,  was  his  conscience.  He 
had  said  to  McQueen  that  he  helped  Babbie  to  escape  from 
the  soldiers  because  of  her  kindness  to  his  people,  and  he 
returned  to  own  that  it  was  a  lie. 

Gavin  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  surgery,  but  entered 
without  waiting  for  a  response.  McQueen  was  no  longer 
stamping  through  the  room,  red  and  furious.  He  had  even 
laid  aside  his  pipe.  He  was  sitting  back  in  his  chair,  looking 
half  mournfully,  half  contemptuously,  at  something  in  his 
palm.  His  hand  closed  instinctively  when  he  heard  the  door 
open,  but  Gavin  had  seen  that  the  object  was  an  open  locket. 

"It  was  only  your  reference  to  the  thing,"  the  detected 
doctor  said,  with  a  grim  laugh,  "that  made  me  open  it.  Forty 
year  ago,  sir,  I —  Phew  !  it  is  forty-two  years,  and  I  have 
not  got  over  it  yet."  He  closed  the  locket  with  a  snap.  "I 
hope  you  have  come  back,  Dishart,  to  speak  more  rationally?" 

Gavin  told  him  why  he  had  come  back,  and  the  doctor 
said  he  was  a  fool  for  his  pains. 

"It  is  useless,  Dishart,  to  make  another  appeal  to  you?" 

"Quite  useless,  doctor,"  Gavin  answered,  promptly.  "My 
mind  is  made  up  at  last." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

NIGHT — MARG.'^RET — FLASHING   OF  A   LANTERN. 

That  evening  the  little  minister  sat  silently  in  his  par- 
lour. Darkness  came,  and  with  it  weavers  rose  heavy-eyed 
from  their  looms,  sleepy  children  sought  their  mothers,  and 
the  gate  of  the  field  above  the  manse  fell  forward  to  let 
cows  pass  to  their  byre;  the  great  Bible  was  produced  in 
many  homes,  and  the  ten  o'clock  bell  clanged  its  last  word 
to  the  night.     Margaret  had  allowed  the  lamp  to  burn  low. 


116  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

Thinking  that  her  boy  slept,  she  moved  softly  to  his  side 
and  spread  her  shawl  over  his  knees.  He  had  forgotten 
her.  The  doctor's  warnings  scarcely  troubled  him.  He  was 
Babbie's  lover.  The  mystery  of  her  was  only  a  veil  hiding 
her  from  other  men,  and  he  was  looking  through  it  upon  the 
face  of  his  beloved. 

It  was  a  night  of  long  ago,  but  can  you  not  see  my 
dear  Margaret  still  as  she  bends  over  her  son?  Not  twice 
in  many  days  dared  the  minister  snatch  a  moment's  sleep  from 
gray  morning  to  midnight,  and,  when  this  did  happen,  he 
jumped  up  by  and  by  in  shame,  to  revile  himself  for  an 
idler,  and  ask  his  mother  wrathfully  why  she  had  not  tum- 
bled him  out  of  his  chair.  To-night  Margaret  was  divided 
between  a  desire  to  let  him  sleep  and  a  fear  of  his  self- 
reproach  when  he  awoke;  and  so,  perhaps,  the  tear  fell  that 
roused  him. 

"I  did  not  like  to  waken  you,"  Margaret  said,  apprehen- 
sively.    "You  must  have  been  very  tired,  Gavin?" 

"I  was  not  sleeping,  mother,"  he  said,  slowly.  "I  was 
only  thinking." 

"Ah,  Gavin,  you  never  rise  from  your  loom.  It  is  hardly 
fair  that  your  hands  should  be  so  full  of  other  people's 
troubles." 

"They  only  fill  one  hand,  mother ;  I  carry  the  people's  joys 
in  the  other  hand,  and  that  keeps  me  erect,  like  a  woman 
between  her  pan  and  pitcher.  I  think  the  joys  have  out- 
weighed the  sorrows  since  we  came  here." 

"It  has  been  all  joy  to  me,  Gavin,  for  you  never  tell  me 
of  the  sorrows.    An  old  woman  has  no  right  to  be  so  happy." 

"Old  woman,  mother !"  said  Gavin.  But  his  indignation 
was  vain.  Margaret  was  an  old  woman.  I  made  her  old  be- 
fore   her   time. 

"As  for  these  terrible  troubles,"  he  went  on,  "I  forget 
them  the  moment  I  enter  the  garden  and  see  you  at  your 
window.  And,  maybe,  I  keep  some  of  the  joys  from  you 
as  well  as  the  troubles." 

Words  about  Babbie  leaped  to  his  mouth,  but  with  an 
effort  he  restrained  them.  He  must  not  tell  his  mother  of 
her  until  Babbie  of  her  free  will  had  told  him  all  there  was 
to  tell. 

"I  have  been  a  selfish  woman,   Gavin." 

"You  selfish,  mother !"  Gavin  said,  smiling.  "Tell  me 
when  you  did  not  think  of  others  before  yourself?" 

"Always,  Gavin.     Has  it  not  been  selfishness  to  hope  that 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  117 

you  would  never  want  to  bring-  another  mistress  to  the  manse  ? 
Do  you  remember  how  angry  you  used  to  be  in  Glasgow 
when  I  said  that  you  would  marry  some  day?" 

"I  remember,"  Gavin  said,  sadly. 

"Yes;  you  used  to  say,  'Don't  speak  of  such  a  thing, 
mother,  for  the  horrid  thought  of  it  is  enough  to  drive 
all  the  Hebrew  out  of  my  head.'  Was  not  that  lightning 
just  now?" 

"I  did  not  see  it.  What  a  memory  you  have,  mother,  for 
all  the  boyish  things  I  said." 

"I  can't  deny,"  Margaret  admitted,  with  a  sigh,  "that  I 
liked  to  hear  you  speak  in  that  way,  though  I  knew  you 
Vv'ould  go  back  on  your  word.  You  see,  you  have  changed 
already." 

"How,   mother?"   asked   Gavin,   surprised. 

"You  said  just  now  that  those  were  boyish  speeches. 
Gavin,  I  can't  understand  the  mothers  who  are  glad  to 
see  their  sons  married;  though  I  had  a  dozen  I  believe  it 
would  be  a  wrench  to  lose  one  of  them." 

"There  are  not  many  mothers  like  you,"  Gavin  said,  laying 
his  hand  fondly  on  JMargaret's  shoulder. 

"There  are  many  better  mothers,  but  few  such  sons.  It 
is  easily  seen  why  God  could  not  afford  me  another,  Gavin, 
I  am  sure  that  was  lightning." 

"I  think   it  was ;  but  don't  be  alarmed,   mother." 

"I  am  never  frightened  when  you  are  with  me." 

"And  I  always  will  be  with  you." 

"Ah,  if  you  were  married — " 

"Do  you  think,"  asked  Gavin,  indignantly,  "that  it  would 
make  any  difference  to  you?" 

Margaret  did  not  answer.  She  knew  what  a  difference  it 
would  make. 

"Except,"  continued  Gavin,  with  a  man's  obtuseness,  "that 
you  would  have  a  daughter  as  well  as  a  son  to  love  you  and 
take  care  of  5'ou?" 

Margaret  could  have  told  him  that  men  give  themselves 
away  needlessly  who  marry  for  the  sake  of  their  mother, 
but  all  she  said  was : 

"Gavin,  I  see  you  can  speak  more  composedly  of  marry- 
ing now  than  you  spoke  a  year  ago.  If  I  did  not  know  better, 
I  should  think  a  Thrums  young  lady  had  got  hold  of  you." 

It  was  a  moment  before  Gavin  replied;  then  he  said, 
gaily : 

"Really,   mother,   the  way  the  best   of   women   speak   of 


118  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

each  other  is  lamentable.  You  say  I  should  be  better  mar- 
ried, and  then  you  take  for  granted  that  every  marriageable 
woman  in  the  neighbourhood  is  trying  to  kidnap  me.  I  am 
sure  you  did  not  take  my  father  by  force  in  that  way." 

He  did  not  see  that  Margaret  trembled  at  the  mention 
of  his  father.  He  never  knew  that  she  was  many  times 
pining  to  lay  her  head  upon  his  breast  and  tell  him  of  me. 
Yet  I  cannot  but  believe  that  she  always  shook  when  Adam 
Dishart  was  spoken  of  between  them.  I  cannot  think  that 
the  long  cherishing  of  the  secret  which  was  hers  and  mine 
kept  her  face  steady  when  that  horror  suddenly  confronted 
her  as  now.  Gavin  would  have  suspected  much  had  he  ever 
suspected  anything. 

"I  know,"  Margaret  said,  courageously,  "that  you  would 
be  better  married;  but  when  it  comes  to  selecting  the  woman 
I  grow  fearful.  O  Gavin!"  she  said,  earnestly,  "it  is  an 
awful  thing  to  marry  the  wrong  man !" 

Here  in  a  moment  had  she  revealed  much,  though  far 
from  all,  and  there  must  have  been  many  such  moments 
between  them.     But  Gavin  was  thinking  of  his  own  affairs. 

"You  mean  the  wrong  woman,  don't  you,  mother?"  he 
said,  and  she  hastened  to  agree.  But  it  was  the  wrong  man 
she  meant. 

"The  difficulty,  I  suppose,  is  to  hit  upon  the  right  one?" 
Gavin  said,  blithely. 

"To  know  which  is  the  right  one  in  time,"  answered 
Margaret,  solemnly.  "But  I  am  saying  nothing  against  the 
young  ladies  of  Thrums,  Gavin.  Though  I  have  scarcely 
seen  them,  I  know  there  are  good  women  among  them.  Jean 
says — " 

"I  believe,  mother,"  Gavin  interposed,  reproachfully,  "that 
you  have  been  questioning   Jean   about  them?" 

"Just  because  I  was  afraid — I  mean  because  I  fancied — 
you  might  be  taking  a  liking  to  one  of  them." 

"And  what  is  Jean's  verdict?" 

"She  says  every  one  of  them  would  jump  at  you,  like 
a  bird  at  a  berry." 

"But  the  berry  cannot  be  divided.  How  would  Miss 
Pennycuick  please  you,  mother  ?" 

"Gavin!"  cried  Margrret,  in  consternation,  "you  don't  mean 
to —     But  you  are  laughing  at  me  again." 

"Then  there  is  the  banker's  daughter?" 

"I  can't  thole  her." 

"Why,  I  question  if  you  ever  set  eyes  on  her,  mother." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  119 

'Terhaps  not,  Gavin;  but  I  have  suspected  her  ever  since 
she  offered  to  become  one  of  your  tract  distributors." 

"I  have  thought,"  Margaret  went  on,  "that  there  was  a 
great  deal  of  wisdom  in  what  you  said  at  that  last  marriage 
in  the  manse,  the  one  where,  you  remember,  the  best  man 
and  the  bridesmaid  joined  hands  instead  of  the  bride  and 
bridegroom." 

"What  did  I  say?"  asked  the  little  minister,  with  mis- 
givings. 

"That  there  was  great  danger  when  people  married  out 
of  their  own  rank  of  life." 

"Oh — ah — well,  of  course,  that  would  depend  on  circum- 
stances." 

"They  were  wise  words,  Gavin.  There  was  the  sermon, 
too,  that  you  preached  a  month  or  two  ago  against  marrying 
into  other  denominations.  Jean  told  me  that  it  greatly 
impressed  the  congregation.  It  is  a  sad  sight,  as  you  said, 
to  see  an  Auld  Licht  lassie  changing  her  faith  because  her 
man  belongs  to  the  U.  P.'s." 

"Did  I   say  that?" 

"You  did,  and  it  so  struck  Jean  that,  she  told  me  she 
would  rather  be  an  old  maid  for  life,  'the  which,'  she  said, 
'is  a  dismal  prospect,'  than  marry  out  of  the  Auld  Licht 
kirk." 

"Perhaps  that  was  a  rather  narrow  view  I  took,  mother. 
After  all,  the  fitting  thing  is  that  the  wife  should  go 
with  her  husband;  especially  if  it  is  he  that  is  the  Auld 
Licht." 

"I  don't  hold  with  narrowness  myself,  Gavin,"  Margaret 
said,  with  an  effort,  "and  admit  that  there  are  many  re- 
spectable persons  in  the  other  denominations.  But  though  a 
weaver  might  take  a  wife  from  another  kirk  without  much 
scandal,  an  Auld  Licht  minister's  madam  must  be  Auld  Licht 
born  and  bred.  The  congregation  would  expect  no  less.  I 
doubt  if  they  would  be  sure  of  her  if  she  came  from  some 
other  Auld  Licht  kirk.  'Deed,  though  she  came  from  our 
own  kirk,  I'm  thinking  the  session  would  want  to  catechise 
her.  Ay,  and  if  all  you  tell  me  of  Lang  Tammas  be  true 
(for,  as  you  know,  I  never  spoke  to  him),  I  warrant  he 
would  catechise  the  session." 

"I  would  brook  no  interference  from  my  session,"  said 
Gavin,  knitting  his  brows,  "and  I  do  not  consider  it  neces- 
sary that  a  minister's  wife  should  have  been  brought  up  in 
his  denomination.     Of  course  she  would  join  it.     We  must 


120  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


make  allowance,  mother,  for  the  thousands  of  young  women 
who  live  in  places  where  there  is  no  Auld  Licht  kirk." 

"You  can  pity  them,  Gavin,"  said  Margaret,  '"without 
marrying  them.   A  minister  has  his  congregation  to  think  of." 

"So  the  doctor  says,"  interposed  her  son. 

"Then  it  was  just  like  his  presumption!"  cried  Margaret. 
''A  minister  should  marry  to  please  himself." 

"Decidedly  he  should,"  Gavin  agreed,  eagerly,  "and  the 
bounden  duty  of  the  congregation  is  to  respect  and  honour 
his  choice.  If  they  forget  that  duty,  his  is  to  remind  them 
of  it." 

"Ah,  well,  Gavin,"  said  Margaret,  confidently,  "your  con- 
gregation are  so  fond  of  you  that  your  choice  would  doubt- 
less be  theirs.  Jean  tells  me  that  even  Lang  Tammas,  though 
he  is  so  obstinate,  has  a  love  for  you  passing  the  love  of 
woman.  These  were  her  words.  Jean  is  more  sentimental 
than  you   might   think." 

"I  wish  he  would  show  his  love,"  said  Gavin,  "by  con- 
tradicting me  less   frequently." 

"You  have  Rob  Dow  to  weigh  against  him." 

"No ;  I  cannot  make  out  what  has  come  over  Rob  lately. 
He  is  drinking  heavily  again,  and  avoiding  me.  The  light- 
ning is  becoming  very  vivid." 

"Yes,  and  I  hear  no  thunder.  There  is  another  thing, 
Gavin.  I  am  one  of  those  that  like  to  sit  at  home,  but  if 
you  had  a  wife  she  would  visit  the  congregation.  A  truly 
religious  wife  would  be  a  great  help  to  you." 

"Religious,"  Gavin  repeated,  slowly.  "Yes,  but  some  peo- 
ple are  religious  without  speaking  of  it.  If  a  woman  is 
good  she  is  religious.  A  good  woman  who  has  been,  let 
us  say,  foolishly  brought  up,  only  needs  to  be  shown  the 
right  way  to  tread  it.  Mother,  I  question  if  any  man, 
minister  or  layman,  ever  yet  fell  in  love  because  the  woman 
was  thrifty,  or  clever,  or  w^ent  to  church  twice  on  Sab- 
bath." 

"I  believe  that  is  true,"  Margaret  said,  "and  I  would  not 
have  it  otherwise.  But  it  is  an  awful  thing,  Gavin,  as  yoi' 
said  from  the  pulpit  two  weeks  ago,  to  worship  only  at  a 
beautiful  face." 

"You  think  too  much  about  what  I  say  in  the  pulpit, 
mother,"  Gavin  said,  with  a  sigh,  "though  of  course  a  man 
who  fell  in  love  merely  with  a  face  would  be  a  contemptible 
creature.  Yet  I  see  that  women  dp  no*  understand  how 
beautv  affects  a  man." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  121 

-  -.11 1  .J— ^— — ^-— — ^—         ^— i— i»— — »»«^— «— — ^— .^ 

"Yes,  yes,  my  boy, — oh,  indeed,  they  do,"  said  Margaret, 
who  on  some  matters  knew  far  more  than  her  son. 

Twelve  o'clock  struck,  and  she  rose  to  go  to  bed,  alarmed 
lest  she  should  not  waken  early  in  the  morning.  "But  I 
am  afraid  I  sha'n't  sleep,"  she  said,  "if  that  lightning  con- 
tinues." 

"It  is  harmless,"  Gavin  answered,  going  to  the  window. 
He  started  back  next  moment,  and  crying,  "Don't  look  out, 
mother,"  hastily  pulled  down  the  blind. 

"Why,  Gavin,"  Margaret  said,  in  fear,  "you  look  as  if  it 
had  struck  you." 

"Oh,  no,"  Gavin  answered,  with  a  forced  laugh,  and  he 
lit  her  lamp  for  her. 

But  it  had  struck  him,  though  it  was  not  lightning.  It 
was  the  flashing  of  a  lantern  against  the  window  to  attsact 
his  attention,  and  the  holder  of  the  lantern  was  Babbie. 

"Good-night,  mother." 

"Good-night,   Gavin.     Don't   sit  up  any  later." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LOVERS. 

Only  something  terrible,  Gavin  thought,  could  have 
brought  Babbie  to  him  at  such  an  hour;  yet  when  he  left  his 
mother's  room  it  was  to  stand  motionless  on  the  stair,  waiting 
for  a  silence  in  the  manse  that  would  not  come.  A  house  is 
never  still  in  darkness  to  those  who  listen  intently;  there 
is  a  whispering  in  distant  chambers,  an  unearthly  hand 
presses  the  snib  of  the  window,  the  latch  rises.  Ghosts  were 
created  when  the  first  man  woke  in  the  night. 

Now  Margaret  slept.  Two  hours  earlier,  Jean,  sitting  on 
the  salt-bucket,  had  read  the  chapter  with  which  she  always 
sent  herself  to  bed.  In  honour  of  the  little  minister  she 
had  begun  her  Bible  afresh  when  he  came  to  Thrums,  and 
was  progressing  through  it,  a  chapter  at  night,  sighing,  per- 
haps, on  washing-days,  at  a  long  chapter,  such  as  Exodus 
twelfth,  but  never  making  two  of  it.  The  kitchen  wag-at- 
the-wall  clock  was  telling  every  room  in  the  house  that  she 
had  neglected  to  shut  her  door.  As  Gavin  felt  his  way  down 
the  dark  stair,  awakening  it  into  protest  at  every  step,  he 
had  a  glimpse  of  the  pendulum's  shadow  running  back  and 


122  THE  LITTLE  IMINISTER 

forward  on  the  hearth ;  he  started  back  from  another  shadow 
on  the  lobby  wall,  and  then  seeing  it  start,  too,  knew  it  for 
his  own.  He  opened  the  door  and  passed  out  unobserved ;  it 
was  as  if  the  sounds  and  shadows  that  filled  the  manse  were 
too  occupied  with  their  game  to  mind  an  interloper. 

"Is  that  you?"'  he  said  to  a  bush,  for  the  garden  was  in 
semi-darkness.  Then  the  lantern's  flash  met  him,  and  he 
saw  the  Egyptian  in  the  summer-seat. 

"At  last !"  she  said,  reproach  full)^  "Evidently  a  lantern 
is  a  poor  door-bell." 

"What  is  it?"  Gavin  asked,  in  suppressed  excitement,  for 
the  least  he  expected  to  hear  was  that  she  was  again  being 
pursued  for  her  share  in  the  riot.  The  tremor  in  his  voice 
surprised  her  into  silence,  and  he  thought  she  faltered  be- 
cause what  she  had  to  tell  him  was  so  woful.  So,  in  the 
darkness  of  the  summer-seat,  he  kissed  her,  and  she  might 
have  known  that  with  that  kiss  the  little  minister  was  hers 
for  ever. 

Now  Babbie  had  been  kissed  before,  but  never  thus,  and 
she  turned  from  Gavin,  and  would  have  liked  to  be  alone, 
for  she  had  begun  to  know  what  love  was,  and  the  flash 
that  revealed  it  to  her  laid  bare  her  own  shame,  so  that 
her  impulse  was  to  hide  herself  from  her  lover.  But  of 
all  this  Gavin  was  unconscious,  and  he  repeated  his  question. 
The  lantern  was  swaying  in  her  hand,  and  when  she  turned 
fearfully  to  him  its  light  fell  on  his  face,  and  she  saw  how 
alarmed  he  was. 

"I  am  going  away  back  to  Nanny's,"  she  said,  suddenly, 
and  rose  cowed,  but  he  took  her  hand  and  held  her. 

"Babbie,"  he  said,  huskily,  "tell  me  what  has  happened  to 
bring   you   here   at  this   hour." 

She  sought  to  pull  her  hand  from  him,  but  could  not. 

"How  you  are  trembling!"  he  whispered.  "Babbie,"  he 
cried,  "something  terrible  has  happened  to  you,  but  do  not 
fear.  Tell  me  what  it  is,  and  then, — then  I  will  take  you 
to  my  mother :  yes,  I  will  take  you  now." 

The  Egyptian  would  have  given  all  she  had  in  the  world 
to  be  able  to  fly  from  him  then,  that  he  might  never  know 
her  as  she  was,  but  it  could  not  be,  and  so  she  spoke  out 
remorselessly,  li  her  voice  had  become  hard,  it  was  a  new- 
born scorn  of  herself  that  made  it  so. 

"You  are  needlessly  alarmed,"  she  said;  "I  am  not  at  all 
the  kind  of  person  who  deserves  sympathy  or  expects  it. 
There  is  nothing  wrong-.     I   am  staying  with   Nanny  over 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  123 

night,  and  only  came  to  Thrums  to  amuse  myself.  I  chased 
your  policeman  down  the  Roods  with  my  lantern,  and  then 
came  here  to  amuse  myself  with  you.     That  is  all." 

"It  was  nothing  but  a  love  of  mischief  that  brought  you 
here?"  Gavin  asked,  sternly,  after  an  unpleasant  pause. 

"Nothing,"  the  Egyptian  answered,  recklessly. 

"I  could  not  have  believed  this  of  you,"  the  minister  said; 
"I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

'T  thought,"  Babbie  retorted,  trying  to  speak  lightly  until 
she  could  get  away  from  him,  "that  you  would  be  glad  to 
see  me.  Your  last  words  in  Caddam  seemed  to  justify  that 
idea." 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  see  you,"  he  answered,  reproachfully. 

"Then  I  will  go  away  at  once,"  she  said,  stepping  out  of 
the  summer-seat. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "you  must  go  at  once." 

"Then  I  won't,"  she  said,  turning  back  defiantly.  "I  know 
what  you  are  to  say:  that  the  Thrums  people  would  be 
shocked  if  they  knew  I  was  here;  as  if  I  cared  what  the 
Thrums  people  think  of  me." 

"I  care  what  they  think  of  you,"  Gav,'n  said,  as  if  that 
were  decisive,  "and  I  tell  you  I  will  not  allow  you  to  repeat 
this  freak." 

"You  'will  not  allow  me,' "  echoed  Babbie,  almost  en- 
joying herself,  despite  her  sudden  loss  of  self-respect. 

"I  will  not,"  Gavin  said,  resolutely.  "Henceforth  you  must 
do  as  I  think  fit." 

"Since  when  have  you  taken  command  of  me?"  demanded 
Babbie. 

"Since  a  minute  ago,"  Gavin  replied,  "when  you  let  me 
kiss  you." 

"Let  you !"  exclaimed  Babbie,  now  justly  incensed.  "You 
did  it  yourself.     I  was  very  angry." 

"No,  you  were  not." 

"I  am  not  allowed  to  say  that  even?"  asked  the  Egyptian. 
"Tell  me  something  I  may  say,  then,  and  I  will  repeat  it 
after  you." 

"I  have  something  to  say  to  you,"  Gavin  tnld  her,  after 
a  moment's  reflection ;  "yes,  and  there  is  something  I  should 
like  to  hear  you  repeat  after  me,   but  not  to-night." 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  what  it  is,"  Babbie  said,  quickly,  but 
she  knew  what  it  was,  and  even  then,  despite  the  new  pain 
at  her  heart,  her  bosom  swelled  with  pride  because  this  man 
still  loved  her.     Now  she  wanted  to  run  away  with  his  love 


124.  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

^■^^— ^^^■■^^— ^^^"^— ^  ^— — ^^— ■ 

for  her  before  he  could  take  it  from  her,  and  then  reahsing 
that  this  parting  must  be  for  ever,  a  great  desire  filled  her 
to  hear  him  put  that  kiss  into  words,  and  she  said,  faltering: 

"You  can  tell  me  what  it  is  if  you  like." 

"Not  to-night,"  said  Gavin. 

"To-night,  if  at  all,"  the  gypsy  almost  entreated. 

"To-morrow,  at  Xanny's,"  answered  Gavin,  decisively;  and 
this  time  he  remembered  without  dismay  that  the  morrow  was 
the  Sabbath. 

In  the  fairy  tale  the  beast  suddenly  drops  his  skin  and 
is  a  prince,  and  I  believe  it  seemed  to  Babbie  that  some 
such  change  had  come  over  this  man,  her  pla>'thing. 

"Your  lantern  is  shining  on  my  mother's  window,"  were 
the  words  that  woke  her  from  this  discovery,  and  then  she 
found  herself  yielding  the  lantern  to  him.  She  became  con- 
scious vaguely  that  a  corresponding  change  was  taking  place 
in  herself. 

"You  spoke  of  taking  me  to  your  mother,"  she  said,  bit- 
terly. 

"Yes,"  he  answered  at  once,  "to-morrow;"  but  she  shook 
her  head,  knowing  that  to-morrow  he  would  be  wiser. 

"Give  me  the  lantern,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "I  am  going 
back  to  Xanny's  now." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "we  must  set  out  now,  but  I  can  carry 
the  lantern." 

"You  are  not  coming  with  me !"  she  exclaimed,  shaking 
herself   free  of  his   hand. 

"I  am  coming,"  he  replied,  calmly,  though  he  was  not 
calm.    "Take  my  arm,  Babbie." 

She  made  a  last  effort  to  free  herself  from  bondage,  crying 
passionately,  "I  will  not  let  you  come." 

"When  I  say  I  am  coming,"  Gavin  answered  between  his 
teeth,  "I  mean  that  I  am  coming,  and  so  let  that  be  an  end 
of  this  folly.     Take  my  arm." 

"I  think  I  hate  you,"  she  said,  retreating  from  him. 

'Take  my  arm,"  he  repeated,  and,  though  her  breast  was 
rising  rebelliously,  she  did  as  he  ordered.,  and  so  he  escorted 
her  from  the  gaiden.  At  the  foot  of  the  field  she  stopped,  and 
thought  to  frighten  him  by  saying,  "What  would  the  people 
say  if  they  saw  you  with  me  now?" 

"It  does  not  much  matter  what  they  would  say,"  he  an- 
swered, still  keeping  his  teeth  together  as  if  doubtful  of  their 
courage.  "As  for  what  they  would  do,  that  is  certain;  they 
would  put  me  out  of  my  church." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  125 

"And  it  is  dear  to  you?" 

"Dearer  than  life." 

"You  told  me  long  ago  that  your  mother's  heart  would 
break  if — " 

"Yes,  I  am  sure  it  would." 

They  had  begun  to  climb  the  fields,  but  she  stopped  him 
with  a  jerk. 

"Go  back,  Mr.  Dishart,"  she  implored,  clutching  his  arm 
with  both  hands.  "You  make  me  very  unhappy  for  no  pur- 
pose.    Oh,  why  should  you  risk  so  much  for  me  ?" 

"I  cannot  have  you  wandering  here  alone  at  midnight," 
Gavin  answered,  gently. 

"That  is  nothing  to  me,"  she  said,  eagerly,  but  no  longer 
resenting  his  air  of  proprietorship. 

"You  will  never  do  it  again  if  I  can  prevent  it." 

"But  you  cannot,"  she  said,  sadly.  "Oh.  yes,  you  can,  Mr. 
Dishart.  If  you  will  turn  back  now  I  shall  promise  never  to 
do  anything  again  without  first  asking  myself  whether  it 
would  seem  right  to  you.  I  know  I  acted  very  wrongly  to- 
night." 

"Only  thoughtlessly,"  he  said. 

"Then  have  pity  on  me,"  she  besought  him,  "and  go  back. 
If  I  have  only  been  thoughtless,  how  can  you  punish  me 
thus?  Mr.  Dishart,"  she  entreated,  her  voice  breaking,  "if 
you  were  to  suffer  for  this  folly  of  mine,  do  vou  think  I  could 
live?" 

"We  are  in  God's  hands,  dear,"  he  answered,  firmly,  and 
he  again  drew  her  arm  to  him.  So  they  climbed  the  first 
field,  and  were  almost  at  the  hill  before  either  spoke  again. 

"Stop,"  Babbie  whispered,  crouching  as  she  spoke ;  "I  see 
some  one  crossing  the  hill." 

"I  have  seen  him  for  some  time,"  Gavin  answered,  quietly; 
"but  I  am  doing  no  wrong,  and  I  will  not  hide." 

The  Egyptian  had  to  walk  on  with  him,  and  I  suppose  she 
did  not  think  the  less  of  him  for  that.  Yet  she  said,  warn- 
ingly : 

"If  he  sees  you,  all  Thrums  will  be  in  an  uproar  before 
morning." 

"I  cannot  help  that,"  Gavin  replied.  "It  is  the  will  of 
God." 

"To  ruin  vou  for  my  sins?" 

"If  He  thinks  fit." 

The  figure  drew  nearer,  and  with  every  step  Babbie's  dis- 
tress doubled. 


126  THE  LITTLE  :MIXISTER 

"We  are  walking  straight  to  him/'  she  whispered.  "I 
implore  you  to  wait  here  until  he  passes,  if  not  for  your 
own  sake,  for  your  mother's." 

At  that  he  wavered,  and  she  heard  his  teeth  sliding  against 
each  other,  as  if  he  could  no  longer  clench  them. 

"But,  no,"  he  said,  moving  on  again,  "I  will  not  be  a 
skulker  from  any  man.  If  it  be  God's  wish  that  I  should 
suffer  for  this,  I  must  suffer." 

"Oh,  why,"  cried  Babbie,  beating  her  hands  together  in 
grief,  "should  you  suffer  for  me  ?" 

"You  are  mine,"  Gavin  answered.  Babbie  gasped.  "And 
if  you  act  foolishly,"  he  continued,  "it  is  right  that  I  should 
bear  the  brunt  of  it.  No,  I  will  not  let  you  go  on  alone ;  you 
are  not  fit  to  be  alone.  You  need  some  one  to  watch  over 
you,  and  care  for  you,  and  love  you,  and,  if  need  be,  to 
suffer  with  you." 

"Turn  back,  dear,  before  he  sees  us." 

"He  has  seen  us." 

Yes,  I  had  seen  them,  for  the  figure  on  the  hill  was  no 
other  than  the  dominie  of  Glen  Quharity.  The  park  gate 
clicked  as  it  swung  to,  and  I  looked  up  and  saw  Gavin  and 
the  Eg)-ptian.  My  eyes  should  have  found  them  sooner, 
but  it  was  to  gaze  upon  Margaret's  home,  while  no  one  saw 
me,  that  I  had  trudged  into  Thrums  so  late,  and  by  that 
time,  I  suppose,  my  eyes  were  of  little  service  for  seeing 
through.  Yet,  when  I  knew  that  of  these  two  people  suddenly 
beside  me  on  the  hill,  one  was  the  little  minister,  and  the 
other  a  strange  woman,  I  fell  back  from  their  side  with 
dread  before  I  could  step  forward  and  cry  "Gavin !" 

"I  am  Mr.  Dishart,"  he  answered,  with  a  composure  that 
would  not  have  served  him  for  another  sentence.  He  was 
more  excited  than  I,  for  the  "Gavin"  fell  harmlessly  on  him, 
while  I  had  no  sooner  uttered  it  than  there  rushed  through 
me  the  shame  of  being  false  to  Margaret.  It  was  the  only 
time  in  my  life  that  I  forgot  her  in  him,  though  he  has  ever 
stood  ne.xt  to  her  in  my  regard. 

I  looked  from  Gavin  to  the  gypsy  woman,  and  again  from 
her  to  him,  and  she  began  to  tell  a  lie  in  his  interest.  But 
she  got  no  further  than  "I  met  Mr.  Dishart  accid — "  when 
she  stopped,  ashamed,  ft  was  reverence  for  Gavin  that 
checked  the  lie.  Not  every  man  has  had  such  a  compliment 
paid  him. 

"It  is  natural,"  Gavin  said,  slowly,  "that  you,  sir,  should 
■wonder  whv  I  am  here  with  this  woman  at  such  an  hour. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  127 


and  you  may  know  nie  so  little  as  to  think  ill  of  me  for 
it." 

I  did  not  answer,  and  he  misunderstood  my  silence. 

"Xo,"  he  continued,  in  a  harder  voice,  as  if  I  had  asked 
him  a  question,  ""I  will  explain  nothing  to  you.  You  are  not 
my  judge.  If  you  would  do  me  harm,  sir,  you  have  it  in 
your  power.'' 

It  was  with  these  cruel  words  that  Gavin  addressed  me. 
He  did  not  know  how  cruel  they  were.  The  Eg}-ptian,  I 
think,  must  "have  seen  that  his  suspicions  hurt  me,  for  she 
said,  softly,  with  a  look  of  appeal  in  her  eyes : 

"You  are  the  schoolmaster  in  Glen  Quharity?  Then  you 
will  perhaps  save  rvlr.  Dishart  the  trouble  of  coming  farther, 
by  showing  me  the  way  to  old  Nanny  Webster's  house  at 
Windyghoul  ?" 

"I  have  to  pass  the  house,  at  any  rate,"  I  answered, 
eagerly,  and  she  came  quickly  to  my  side. 

I  knew,  though  in  the  darkness  I  could  see  but  vaguely, 
that  Gavin  was  holding  his  head  high,  and  waiting  for  me  to 
say  my  worst.  I  had  not  told  him  that  I  dared  think  no  evil 
of  him,  and  he  still  suspected  me.  Now  I  would  not  trust 
myself  to  speak,  lest  I  should  betray  Margaret,  and  yet  I 
wanted  him  to  know  that  base  doubts  about  him  could  never 
find  a  shelter  in  me.  I  am  a  timid  man,  who  long  ago  lost 
the  glory  of  my  life  by  it,  and  I  was  again  timid  when  I 
sought  to  let  Gavin  see  that  my  faith  in  him  was  unshaken. 
I  lifted  my  bonnet  to  the  gj'psy.  and  asked  her  to  take  my 
arm.  It  was  done  clumsily,  I  cannot  doubt,  but  he  read  my 
meaning,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  me.  I  had  not  touched 
it  since  he  was  three  years  old,  and  I  trembled  too  much  to 
give  it  the  grasp  I  owed  it.  He  and  I  parted  without  a 
word,  but  to  the  Eg\-ptian  he  said,  "To-morrow,  dear,  I 
will  see  you  at  Nanny's,"  and  he  was  to  kiss  her,  but  I 
pulled  her  a  step  farther  from  him.  and  she  put  her  hands 
over  her  face,  crying.  "No,  no!" 

If  I  asked  her  some  questions  between  the  hill  and  Windy- 
ghoul you  must  not  blame  me,  for  this  was  my  affair  as  well 
as  theirs.  She  did  not  answer  me ;  I  know  nnw  that  she  did 
not  hear  me.  But  at  the  mud  house  she  looked  abruptly  into 
my  face,  and  said : 

"You  love  him,  too!" 

I  trudged  to  the  schoolhouse  with  these  words  for  com- 
pany, and  it  was  less  her  discovery  than  her  confession  that 
tortured  me.    How  much  I  slept  that  night  you  may  guess. 


128  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  NEW  WORLD,  AND  THE  WOMAN  WHO  MAY  NOT  DWELL 
THEREIN. 

Up  here  in  the  glen  schoolhouse,  after  my  pupils  have 
straggled  home,  there  comes  to  me  at  times,  and  so  sudden 
that  it  may  be  while  I  am  infusing  my  tea,  a  hot  desire 
to  write  great  books.  Perhaps  an  hour  afterwards  I  rise, 
beaten,  from  my  desk,  flinging  all  I  have  written  into  the 
fire  (yet  rescuing  some  of  it  on  second  thought),  and  curse 
myself  as  an  ingle-nook  man,  for  I  see  that  one  can  only 
paint  what  he  himself  has  felt,  and  in  my  passion  I  wish 
to  have  all  the  vices,  even  to  being  an  impious  man,  that 
I  may  describe  them  better.  For  this  may  I  be  pardoned. 
It  comes  to  nothing  in  the  end,  save  that  my  tea  is  brackish. 

Yet  though  my  solitary  life  in  the  glen  is  cheating  me  of 
many  experiences,  more  helpful  to  a  writer  than  to  a  Chris- 
tian, it  has  not  been  so  tame  but  that  I  can  understand  why 
Babbie  cried  when  she  went  into  Nanny's  garden  and  saw  the 
new  world.  Let  no  one  who  loves  be  called  altogether  un- 
happy. Even  love  unreturned  has  its  rainbow,  and  Babbie 
knew  that  Gavin  loved  her.  Yet  she  stood  in  woe  among  the 
stiff  berry  bushes,  as  one  who  stretches  forth  her  hands  to 
Love  and  sees  him  looking  for  her,  and  knows  she  must 
shrink  from  the  arms  she  would  lie  in,  and  only  call  to  him 
in  a  voice  he  cannot  hear.  This  is  not  a  love  that  is  always 
bitter.  It  grows  sweet  with  age.  But  could  that  dry  the 
tears  of  the  little  Egyptian,  who  had  only  been  a  woman 
for  a  day? 

Much  was  still  dark  to  her.  Of  one  obstacle  that  must  keep 
her  and  Gavin  ever  apart  she  knew,  and  he  did  not;  but  had 
it  been  removed  she  would  have  given  herself  to  him  humbly, 
not  in  her  own  longing,  but  because  he  wanted  her.  "Be- 
hold what  I  am,"  she  could  have  said  to  him  then,  and  left 
the  rest  to  him,  believing  that  her  unworthiness  would  not 
drag  him  down,  it  would  lose  itself  so  readily  in  his  strength. 
That  Thrums  could  rise  against  such  a  man  if  he  defied  it, 
she  did  not  believe;  but  she  was  to  learn  the  truth  presently 
from  a  child. 

To  most  of  us,  I  suppose,  has  come  some  shock  that 
was  to  make  us  different  men  from  that  hour,  and  yet,  how 
many  days  elapsed  before  something  of  the  man  we  had  been 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  129 

leapt  up  in  us?  Babbie  thought  she  had  buried  her  old  im- 
pulsiveness, and  then  remembering  that  from  the  top  of  the 
field  she  might  see  Gavin  returning  from  church,  she  has- 
tened to  the  hill  to  look  upon  him  from  a  distance.  Before  she 
reached  the  gate  where  1  had  met  her  and  him,  however,  she 
stopped,  distressed  at  her  selfishness,  and  asked,  bitterly, 
"Why  am  I  so  different  from  other  women ;  why  should  what 
is  so  easy  to  them  be  so  hard  to  me  ?" 

"Gavin,  my  beloved!"  the  Egyptian  cried,  in  her  agony, 
and  the  wind  caught  her  words  and  fiung  them  in  the  air, 
making  sport  of  her. 

She  wandered  westward  over  the  bleak  hill,  and  by  and  by 
came  to  a  great  slab  called  the  Standing  Stone,  on  which 
children  often  sit  and  muse  until  they  see  gay  ladies  riding 
by  on  palfreys — a  kind  of  horse — and  knights  in  glittering 
armour,  and  goblins,  and  fiery  dragons,  and  other  wonders 
now  extinct,  of  which  bare-legged  laddies  dream,  as  well  as 
boys  in  socks.  The  Standing  Stone  is  in  the  dyke  that  sepa- 
rates the  hill  from  a  fir  wood,  and  it  is  the  fairy-book  of 
Thrums.  If  you  would  be  a  knight  yourself,  you  must  sit  on 
it  and  whisper  to  it  your  desire. 

Babbie  came  to  the  Standing  Stone,  and  there  was  a  little 
boy  astride  it.  His  hair  stood  up  through  holes  in  his  bon- 
net, and  he  was  very  ragged  and  miserable. 

"Why  are  you  crying,  little  boy?"  Babbie  asked  him, 
gently ;  but  he  did  not  look  up,  and  the  tongue  was  strange 
to  him. 

"How  are  you  greeting  so  sair?"  she  asked. 

"I'm  no  greeting  very  sair,"  he  answered,  turning  his  head 
from  her  that  a  woman  might  not  see  his  tears.  "I'm  no 
greeting  so  sair  but  what  I  grat  sairer  when  my  mither  died." 

"When  did  she  die?"  Babbie  inquired. 

"Lang  syne,"  he  answered,  still  with  averted  facfi^ 

"What  is  your  name  ?" 

"Micah  is  my  name.     Rob  Dow's  my  father." 

"And  have  you  no  brothers  nor  sisters?"  asked  Babbie, 
with  a  fellow  feeling  for  him. 

"No,  juist  my  father,"  he  said. 

"You  should  be  the  better  laddie  to  him  then.  Did  your 
mither  no  tell  you  to  be  that  afore  she  died?" 

"Ay,"  he  answered,  "she  telled  me  aye  to  hide  the  bottle 
frae  him  when  I  could  get  haed  o't.  She  took  me  into  the 
bed  to  make  me  promise  that,  and  syne  she  died." 

"Does  your  father  drink  ?" 


130  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"He  bauds  niair  than  any  other  man  in  Thrums,"  Micah 
repHed,  almost  proudly. 

'"And  he  strikes  you?"  Babbie  asked,  compassionately. 

"That's  a  lie,"  retorted  the  boy,  fiercely.  "Leastwise,  he 
doesna  strike  me  except  when  he's  mortal,  and  syne  I  can 
jouk  him." 

"What  are  you  doing  there  ?" 

"I'm  wishing.     It's  a  wishing  stane." 

"You  are  wishing  your  father  wouldna  drink." 

"No,  I'm  no,"  answered  Micah.  "There  was  a  lang  time 
he  didna  drink,  but  the  woman  has  sent  him  to  it  again.  It's 
about  her  I'm  wishing.     I'm  wishing  she  was  in  hell." 

"What  woman  is  it?"  asked  Babbie,  shuddering. 

"I  dinna  ken,"  Micah  said,  "but  she's  an  ill  ane." 

"Did  you  never  see  her  at  your  father's  hous€  ?" 

"Na ;  if  he  could  get  grip  o'  her  he  would  break  her  ower 
his  knee.  I  hearken  to  him  saying  that,  when  he's  wild.  He 
says  she  should  be  burned  for  a  witch." 

"But  if  he  hates  her,"  asked  Babbie,  "how  can  she  have 
sic  power  ower  him?" 

"It's  no  him  that  she  has  baud  o',"  replied  Micah,  still  look- 
ing away  from  her. 

"Wha  is  it,  then?" 

"It's  Mr.  Dishart." 

Babbie  was  struck  as  if  by  an  arrow  from  the  wood.  It 
was  so  unexpected  that  she  gave  a  cry,  and  then  for  the  first 
time  Micah  looked  at  her. 

"How  should  that  send  your  father  to  the  drink?"  she 
asked,  with  an  effort. 

"Because  my  father's  michty  fond  o'  him,"  answered  Micah, 
staring  strangely  at  her ;  "and  when  the  folk  ken  about  the 
woman,  they'll  stane  the  minister  cut  o'  Thrums." 

The  wood  faded  for  a  moment  from  the  Egyptian's  sight. 
When  it  came  back,  the  boy  had  slid  off  the  Standing  Stone, 
and  was  stealing  away. 

"Why  do  you  run  frae  me?"  Babbie  asked,  pathetically, 

"I'm  fleid  at  you,"  he  gasped,  coming  to  a  standstill  at  a 
safe  distance;  "you're  the  woman!" 

Babbie  cowered  before  her  little  judge,  and  he  drew  nearer 
her  slowly. 

"What  makes  you  think  that?"  she  said. 

It  was  a  curious  time  for  Babbie's  beauty  to  be  paid  its 
most  princely  compliment. 

"Because  you're  so  bonny,"  Micah  v/hispered  across  the 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  131 

dyke.  Her  tears  gave  him  courage.  "You  micht  gang  awa," 
he  entreated.  "If  you  kent  what  a  differ  Mr.  Dishart  made 
in  my  father  till  you  came,  you  would  maybe  gang  awa. 
When  he's  roaring  fou  I  have  to  sleep  in  the  wood,  and  it's 
awfu'  cauld.  I'm  doubting  he'll  kill  me,  woman,  if  you  dinna 
gang  awa." 

Poor  Babbie  put  her  hand  to  her  heart,  but  the  innocent 
lad  continued,  mercilessly : 

"If  ony  shame  comes  to  the  minister,  his  auld  mither'll  die. 
How  have  you  sic  an  ill-will  at  the  minister?" 

Babbie  held  up  her  hands  like  a  supplicant. 

"I'll  gie  you  my  rabbit,"  Micah  said,  "if  you'll  gang  awa. 
I've  juist  the  ane."  She  shook  her  head,  and,  misunderstand- 
ing her,  he  cried,  with  his  knuckles  in  his  eye,  "I'll  gie  you 
them  baith,  though  I'm  michty  sweer  to  part  wi'  Spotty." 

Then  at  last  Babbie  found  her  voice. 

"Keep  your  rabbits,  laddie,"  she  said,  "and  greet  no  more. 
I'm  gaen  awa." 

"And  you'll  never  come  back  no  more  a'  your  life?"  pleaded 
Micah. 

"Never  no  more  a'  my  life,"  repeated  Babbie. 

"And  ye'll  leave  the  minister  alane  for  ever  and  ever?" 

"For  ever  and  ever." 

Micah  rubbed  his  face  dry,  and  said,  "Will  you  let  me 
stand  on  the  Standing  Stane  and  watch  you  gaen  awa  for 
ever  and  ever?" 

At  that  a  sob  broke  from  Babbie's  heart,  and  looking  at 
her  doubtfully,  Micah  said : 

"Maybe  you're  gey  ill  for  what  you've  done  ?" 

"Ay,"  Babbie  answered,  "I'm  gey  ill  for  what  I've 
done." 

A  minute  passed,  and  in  her  anguish  she  did  not  know  that 
still  she  was  standing  at  the  dyke.     Micah's  voice  roused  her : 

"You  said  you  would  gang  awa,  and  you're  no  gaen." 

Then  Babbie  went  away.  The  boy  watched  her  across  the 
hill.  He  climbed  the  Standing  Stone  and  gazed  after  her 
until  she  was  but  a  coloured  ribbon  among  the  broom.  When 
she  disappeared  into  Windyghoul  he  ran  home  joyfully,  and 
told  his  father  what  a  good  day's  work  he  had  done.  Rob 
struck  him  for  a  fool  for  taking  a  gypsy's  word,  and  warned 
him  against  speaking  of  the  woman  in  Thrums. 

But  though  Dow  believed  that  Gavin  continued  to  meet 
the  Egyptian  secretly,  he  was  wrong.  A  sum  of  money  for 
Nanny  was  sent  to  the  minister,  but  he  could  guess  only  from 


132  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

whom  it  came.  In  vain  did  he  search  for  Babbie.  Some 
months  passed  and  he  gave  up  the  search,  persuaded  that  he 
should  see  her  no  more.  He  went  about  his  duties  with  a 
drawn  face  that  made  many  folk  uneasy  when  it  was  stern, 
and  pained  them  when  it  tried  to  smile.  But  to  Margaret, 
though  the  effort  was  terrible,  he  was  as  he  had  ever  been, 
and  so  no  thought  of  a  woman  crossed  her  loving  breast. 


CHAPTER  XXHI. 

BEGINNING  OF  THE  TWENTY-FOUR  HOURS. 

I  CAN  tell  still  how  the  whole  of  the  glen  was  engaged 
about  the  hour  of  noon  on  the  fourth  of  August  month ;  a 
day  to  be  among  the  last  forgotten  by  any  of  us,  though  it 
began  as  quietly  as  a  roaring  March.  At  the  Spittal,  between 
which  and  Thrums  this  is  a  half-way  house,  were  gathered 
two  hundred  men  in  kilts,  and  many  gentry  from  the  neigh- 
bouring glens,  to  celebrate  the  earl's  marriage,  which  was 
to  take  place  on  the  morrow,  and  thither,  too,  had  gone  many 
of  my  pupils  to  gather  gossip,  at  which  girls  of  six  are 
trustier  hands  than  boys  of  twelve.  Those  of  us,  however, 
who  were  neither  children  nor  of  gentle  blood,  remained  at 
home,  the  farmers  more  taken  up  with  the  want  of  rain,  now 
become  a  calamity,  than  with  an  old  man's  wedding,  and  their 
women-folk  wringing  their  hands  for  rain  also,  yet  finding 
time  to  marvel  at  the  marriage's  taking  place  at  the  Spittal 
instead  of  in  England,  of  which  the  ignorant  spoke  vaguely 
as  an  estate  of  the  bride's. 

For  my  own  part  I  could  talk  of  the  disastrous  drought  with 
Waster  Lunny  as  I  walked  over  his  parched  fields,  but  I  had 
not  such  cause  as  he  to  brood  upon  it  by  day  and  night;  and 
the  ins  and  outs  of  the  earl's  marriage  were  for  discussing  at 
a  tea-table,  where  there  were  women  to  help  one  to  conclu- 
sions, rather  than  for  the  reflections  of  a  solitary  dominie, 
who  had  seen  neither  bride  nor  bridegroom.  So  it  must  be 
confessed  that  when  I  might  have  been  regarding  the  sky 
moodily,  or  at  the  Spittal,  where  a  free  table  that  day  invited 
all,  I  was  sitting  in  the  schoolhouse,  heeling  my  left  boot, 
on  which  I  have  always  been  a  little  hard. 

I  made  small  speed,  not  through  lack  of  craft,  but  because 
one  can  no  more  drive  in  tackets  properly  than  take  cities 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  133 

unless  he  gives  his  whole  mind  to  it;  and  half  of  mine  was 
at  the  Auld  Licht  manse.  Since  our  meeting  six  months 
earlier  on  the  hill  I  had  not  seen  Gavin,  but  I  had  heard 
much  of  him,  and  of  a  kind  to  trouble  me. 

Wearyworld  hobbled  after  mc  up  the  Roods  one  day,  pelt- 
ing me  with  remarks,  though  I  was  doing  my  best  to  get 
away  from  him.  "Even  Rob  Dow  sees  there's  something 
come  ower  the  minister,"  he  bawled,  "for  Rob's  fou  ilka  Sab- 
bath now.  Ay,  but  this  I  will  say  for  Mr.  Dishart,  that  he 
aye  gies  me  a  civil  word."  I  thought  I  had  left  the  police- 
man behind  with  this,  but  next  minute  he  roared,  "And  what- 
ever is  the  matter  wi'  him  it  has  made  him  kindlier  to  me 
than  ever."  He  must  have  taken  the  short  cut  through 
Lunan's  close,  for  at  the  top  of  the  Roods  his  voice  again 
made  up  on  me.  "Dagone  you,  for  a  cruel  pack  to  put  your 
fingers  to  your  lugs  ilka  time  I  open  my  mouth," 

As  for  Waster  Lunny's  daughter  Easie,  who  got  her  school- 
ing free  for  redding  up  the  schoolhouse  and  breaking  my 
furniture,  she  would  never  have  been  off  the  gossip  about 
the  minister,  for  she  was  her  mother  in  miniature,  with  a 
tongue  that  ran  like  a  pump  after  the  pans  are  full,  not  for 
use  but  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  spilling. 

On  that  awful  fourth  of  August  I  not  only  had  all  this 
confused  talk  in  my  head,  but  reason  for  jumping  my  mind 
between  it  and  the  Egyptian  (as  if  to  catch  them  together 
unawares),  and  I  was  like  one  who,  with  the  mechanism  of  a 
watch  jumbled  in  his  hand,  could  set  it  going  if  he  had  the  art. 

Of  the  gypsy  I  knew  nothing  save  what  I  had  seen  that 
night,  yet  what  more  was  there  to  learn  ?  I  was  aware  that 
she  loved  Gavin  and  that  he  loved  her.  A  moment  had  shown 
it  to  me.  Now  with  the  Auld  Lichts,  I  have  the  smith's 
acquaintance  with  his  irons,  and  so  I  could  not  believe  that 
they  would  suffer  their  minister  to  marry  a  vagrant.  Had 
it  not  been  for  this  knowledge,  which  made  me  fearful  for 
Margaret,  I  would  have  done  nothing  to  keep  these  two  young 
people  apart.  Some  to  whom  I  have  said  this  maintain  that 
the  Egj'ptian  turned  my  head  at  our  first  meeting.  Such  an 
argument  is  not  perhaps  worth  controverting.  I  admit  that 
even  now  I  straighten  under  the  fire  of  a  bright  eye,  as  a 
pensioner  may  salute  when  he  sees  a  young  officer.  In  the 
shooting  season,  should  I  chance  to  be  leaning  over  my  dyke 
while  English  sportsmen  pass  (as  is  usually  the  case  if  I 
have  seen  them  approaching),  I  remember  naught  of  them 
save  that  they  call  me  "she,"  and  end  their  greetings  with 


134  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


"whatever"  (which  Waster  Lunny  takes  to  be  a  southron 
mode  of  speech),  but  their  ladies  dwell  pleasantly  in  my 
memory,  from  their  engaging  faces  to  the  pretty  crumpled 
thing  dangling  on  their  arms,  that  is  a  hat  or  a  basket,  I  am 
seldom  sure  which.  The  Egyptian's  beauty,  therefore,  was  a 
gladsome  sight  to  me,  and  none  the  less  so  that  I  had  come 
upon  it  as  unexpectedly  as  some  men  step  into  a  bog.  Had 
she  been  alone  when  I  met  her  I  cannot  deny  that  I  would 
have  been  content  to  look  on  her  face,  without  caring  what 
was  inside  it ;  but  she  was  with  her  lover,  and  that  lover  was 
Gavin,  and  so  her  face  was  to  me  as  little  for  admiring  as 
this  glen  in  a  thunderstorm,  when  I  know  that  some  fellow 
creature  is  lost  on  the  hills. 

If,  however,  it  was  no  quick  liking  for  the  gypsy  that  almost 
tempted  me  to  leave  these  two  lovers  to  each  other,  what  was 
it?  It  was  the  warning  of  my  own  life.  Adam  Dishart  had 
torn  my  arm  from  Margaret's,  and  I  had  not  recovered  the 
wrench  in  eighteen  years.  Rather  than  act  his  part  between 
these  two  I  felt  tempted  to  tell  them,  "Deplorable  as  the  result 
may  be,  if  you  who  are  a  minister  marry  this  vagabond,  it  will 
be  still  more  deplorable  if  you  do  not." 

But  there  was  INIargaret  to  consider,  and  at  thought  of  her 
I  cursed  the  Egyptian  aloud.  What  could  I  do  to  keep  Gavin 
and  the  woman  apart?  I  could  tell  him  the  secret  of  his 
mother's  life.  Would  that  be  sufficient?  It  would  if  he  loved 
Margaret,  as  I  did  not  doubt.  Pity  for  her  would  make  him 
undergo  any  torture  rather  than  she  should  suffer  again. 
But  to  divulge  our  old  connection  would  entail  her  discovery 
of  me,  and  I  questioned  if  even  the  saving  of  Gavin  could 
destroy  the  bitterness  of  that. 

I  might  appeal  to  the  Egyptian.  I  might  tell  her  even 
what  I  shuddered  to  tell  him.  She  cared  for  him,  I  was  sure, 
well  enough  to  have  the  courage  to  give  him  up.  But  where 
was  I  to  find  her? 

Were  she  and  Gavin  meeting  still  ?  Perhaps  the  change 
which  had  come  over  the  little  minister  meant  that  they  had 
parted.  Yet  what  I  had  heard  him  say  to  her  on  the  hill 
warned  me  not  to  trust  in  any  such  solution  of  the  trouble. 

From  my  window  I  saw  a  string  of  people  walking  rapidly 
down  the  glen,  and  Waster  Lunny  crossing  his  potato  field  to 
meet  them.  Remembering  that,  though  I  was  in  my  stocking 
soles,  the  ground  was  dry,  I  hastened  to  join  the  farmer,  for 
I  like  to  miss  nothing.  I  saw  a  curious  sight.  In  front  of 
the  little  procession  coming  down  the  glen  road,  and  so  much 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  135 

more  impressive  than  his  satellites  that  they  may  be  put  out 
of  mind  as  merely  ploughmen  and  the  like  following  a  show, 
was  a  Highlander  that  I  knew  to  be  Lauchlan  Campbell,  one 
of  the  pipers  engaged  to  lend  music  to  the  earl's  marriage. 
He  had  the  name  of  a  thrawn  man  when  sober,  but  pretty 
at  the  pipes  at  both  times,  and  he  came  marching  down  the 
glen  blowing  gloriously,  as  if  he  had  the  clan  of  Campbell 
at  his  heels.  I  know  no  man  who  is  so  capable  on  occasion 
of  looking  like  twenty  as  a  Highland  piper,  and  never  have 
I  seen  a  face  in  such  a  blaze  of  passion  as  was  Lauchlan 
Campbell's  that  day.  His  following  were  keeping  out  of  his 
reach,  jumping  back  every  time  he  turned  round  to  shake  his 
fist  in  the  direction  of  the  Spittal.  While  this  magnificent 
man  was  yet  some  yards  from  us,  I  saw  Waster  Lunny,  who 
had  been  in  the  middle  of  the  road  to  ask  questions,  fall  back 
in  fear,  and  not  being  a  fighting  man  myself,  I  jumped  the 
dyke.  Lauchlan  gave  me  a  look  that  sent  me  farther  into  the 
field,  and  strutted  past,  shrieking  defiance  through  his  pipes, 
until  I  lost  him  and  his  followers  in  a  bend  of  the  road. 

"That's  a  terrifying  spectacle,"  I  heard  Waster  Lunny  say 
when  the  music  had  become  but  a  distant  squeal.  "You're 
bonny  at  louping  dykes,  dominie,  when  there  is  a  wild  bull 
in  front  o'  you.  Na,  I  canna  tell  what  has  happened,  but  at 
the  least  Lauchlan  maun  hae  dirked  the  earl.  Thae  loons 
cried  out  to  me  as  they  gaed  by  that  he  has  been  blaw- 
ing  awa'  at  that  tune  till  he  canna  halt.  What  a  wind's 
in  the  crittur !  I'm  thinking  there's  a  hell  in  ilka  High- 
landman." 

"Take  care,  then.  Waster  Lunny,  that  you  dinna  licht  it,'*' 
said  an  angry  voice  that  made  us  jump,  though  it  was  only 
Duncan,  the  farmer's  shepherd,  who  spoke. 

'T  had  forgotten  you  was  a  Highlandman  yoursel',  Dun- 
can," Waster  Lunny  said,  nervously ;  but  Elspeth,  who  had 
come  to  us  unnoticed,  ordered  the  shepherd  to  return  to  the 
hillside,  which  he  did  haughtily. 

"How  did  you  no  lay  baud  on  that  blast  o'  wind,  Lauchlan 
Campbell,"  asked  Elspeth  of  her  husband,  "and  speir  at  him 
what  had  happened  at  the  Spittal  ?  A  quarrel  afore  a  mar- 
riage brings  ill  luck." 

"I'm  thinking,"  said  the  farmer,  "that  Rintoul's  making  his 
ain  ill  luck  by  marrying  on  a  young  leddy." 

"A  man's  never  ower  auld  to  marn,',"  said  Elspeth. 

"No,  nor  a  woman,"  rejoined  Waster  Lunny,  "when  she 
gets  the  chance.     But,  Elspeth,  I  believe  I  can  guess  what 


136  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

has  fired  that  fearsome  piper.  Depend  upon  it,  somebody  has 
been  speaking  disrespectful  about  the  crittur's  ancestors." 

"His  ancestors!"  exclaimed  Elspeth,  scornfully.  "I'm 
thinking  mine  could  hae  bocht  them  at  a  crown  the  dozen." 

"Hoots,"  said  the  farmer,  "you're  o'  a  weaving  stock,  and 
dinna  understand  about  ancestors.  Take  a  stick  to  a  High- 
land laddie,  and  it's  no  him  you  hurt,  but  his  ancestors.  Like- 
wise it's  his  ancestors  that  stanes  you  for  it.  When  Duncan 
stalked  awa  the  now,  what  think  you  he  saw?  He  saw  a 
farmer's  wife  dauring  to  order  about  his  ancestors;  and  if 
that's  the  way  wi'  a  shepherd,  what  will  it  be  wi'  a  piper 
that  has  the  kilts  on  him  a'  day  to  mind  him  o'  his  ancestors 
ilka  time  he  looks  down?" 

Elspeth  retired  to  discuss  the  probable  disturbance  at  the 
Spittal  with  her  family,  giving  Waster  Lunny  the  opportunity 
of  saying  to  me  impressively : 

"Man,  man,  has  it  never  crossed  you  that  it's  a  queer  thing 
the  like  o'  you  and  me  having  no  ancestors?  Ay,  we  had 
them  in  a  manner  o'  speaking,  no  doubt,  but  they're  as  com- 
pletely lost  sicht  o'  as  a  flagon  lid  that's  fallen  ahint  the 
dresser.  Hech,  sirs,  but  they  would  need  a  gey  rubbing  to 
get  the  rust  off  them  now.  I've  been  thinking  that  if  I  was 
to  get  my  laddies  to  say  their  grandfather's  name  a  curran 
times  ilka  day,  like  the  Catechism,  and  they  were  to  do  the 
same  wi'  their  bairns,  and  it  was  continued  in  future  genera- 
tions, we  micht  raise  a  fell  field  o'  ancestors  in  time.  Ay, 
but  Elspeth  wouldna  hear  o't.  Nothing  angers  her  mair 
than  to  hear  me  speak  o'  planting  trees  for  the  benefit  o' 
them  that's  to  be  farmers  here  after  me ;  and  as  for  ancestors, 
she  would  howk  them  up  as  quick  as  I  could  plant  them. 
Losh,  dominie,  is  that  a  boot  in  your  hand?" 

To  my  mortification  I  saw  that  I  had  run  out  of  the  school- 
house  with  the  boot  on  my  hand  as  if  it  were  a  glove,  and 
back  I  went  straightway,  blaming  myself  for  a  man  wanting 
in  dignity.  It  was  but  a  minor  trouble  this,  however,  even  at 
the  time ;  and  to  recall  it  later  in  the  day  was  to  look  back 
on  happiness,  for  though  I  did  not  know  it  yet,  Lauchlan's 
playing  raised  the  curtain  on  the  great  act  of  Gavin's  life, 
and  the  twenty-four  hours  had  begun,  to  which  all  I  have  told 
as  }  et  is  no  more  than  Ihe  prologue. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  137 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

SCENE    AT   THE   SPITTAL. 

Within  an  hour  after  I  had  left  him,  Waster  Lunny 
walked  into  the  schoolhouse  and  handed  me  his  snuff-mull, 
which  I  declined  politely.  It  was  with  this  ceremony  that 
we  usually  opened  our  conversations. 

"I've  seen  the  post,"  he  said,  "and  he  tells  me  there  has 
been  a  queer  ploy  at  the  Spittal.  It's  a  wonder  the  marriage 
hasna  been  turned  into  a  burial,  and  all  because  o'  that  High- 
land stirk,  Lauchlan  Campbell." 

Waster  Lunny  was  a  man  who  had  to  retrace  his  steps  in 
telling  a  story  if  he  tried  short  cuts,  and  so  my  custom  was 
to  wait  patiently  while  he  delved  through  the  ploughed  fields 
that  always   lay  between  him  and  his  destination. 

"As  you  ken,  Rintoul's  so  little  o'  a  Scotchman  that  he's 
no  muckle  better  than  an  Englisher.  That  maun  be  the  rea- 
bon  he  hadna  mair  sense  than  to  tramp  on  a  Highlandman's 
ancestors,  as  he  tried  to  tramp  on  Lauchla/i's  this  day." 

"If  Lord  Rintoul  insulted  the  piper,"  I  suggested,  giving 
the  farmer  a  helping  hand  cautiously,  "it  would  be  through 
inadvertence.  Rintoul  only  bought  the  Spittal  a  year  ago,  and 
until  then,  I  daresay,  he  had  seldom  been  on  our  side  of  the 
Border." 

"But   what  was  the   insult?     Was   Lauchlan   dismissed?" 

"Na,  faags !  It  was  waur  than  that.  Dominie,  you're 
dull  in  the  uptake  compared  to  Elspeth.  I  hadna  telled  her 
half  the  story  afore  she  jaloused  the  rest.  However,  to  be- 
gin again;  there's  great  feasting  and  rejoicings  gaen  on  at 
the  Spittal  the  now,  and  also  a  banquet,  which  the  post  says 
is  twa  dinners  in  one.  Weel,  there's  a  curran  Ogilvys  among' 
the  guests,  and  it  was  them  that  egged  on  her  little  leddyship 
to  make  the  daring  proposal  to  the  earl.  What  was  the  pro- 
posal? It  was  no  less  than  that  the  twa  pipers  should  be 
ordered  to  play  'The  Bonny  House  o'  Airlie.'  Dominie,  I 
wonder  you  can  tak  it  so  calm  when  you  ken  that's  the 
Ogilvys'  sang,  and  that  it's  aimed  at  the  clan  o'  Campbell." 

"Pooh !"  I  said.  "The  Ogilvys  and  the  Campbells  used 
to  be  mortal  enemies,  but  the  feud  has  been  long  forgotten." 

"Ay,  I've  heard  tell,"  Waster  Lunny  said,  sceptically,  "that 
Airlie  and  Argyle  shakes  hands  now  like  Christians;  but 
I'm  thinking  that's  just  afore  the  Queen.    Dinna  speak  now, 


138  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

for  I'm  in  the  thick  o't.  Her  little  leddyship  was  all  hinging 
in  gold  and  jewels,  the  which  winna  be  her  ain  till  the  morn; 
and  she  leans  ower  to  the  earl  and  whispers  to  him  to  get 
the  pipers  to  play  'The  Bonny  House.'  He  wasna  willing, 
for  says  he,  'There's  Ogilvys  at  the  table,  and  ane  o'  the 
pipers  is  a  Campbell,  and  we'll  better  let  sleeping  dogs  lie.' 
However,  the  Ogilvys  lauched  at  his  caution ;  and  he  was  so 
infatuated  wi'  her  little  leddyship  that  he  gae  in,  and  he  cried 
out  to  the  pipers  to  strike  up  'The  Bonny  House.'  " 

Waster  Lunny  pulled  his  chair  nearer  me  and  rested  his 
hand  on  my  knees. 

"Dominie,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  fell  now  and  again 
into  a  whisper,  "them  looking  on  swears  that  when  Lauchlan 
Campbell  heard  these  monstrous  orders  his  face  became  ugly 
and  black,  so  that  they  kent  in  a  jiffy  what  he  would  do. 
It's  said  a'  body  jumped  back  frae  him  in  a  sudden  dread, 
except  poor  Angus,  the  other  piper,  wha  was  busy  tuning  up 
for  'The  Bonny  House.'  Weel,  Angus  had  got  no  further 
in  the  tune  than  the  first  skirl  when  Lauchlan  louped  at  him, 
and  ripped  up  the  startled  crittur's  pipes  wi'  his  dirk.  The 
pipes  gae  a  roar  o'  agony  like  a  stuck  swine,  and  fell  gasping 
on  the  floor.  What  happened  next  was  that  Lauchlan,  wi' 
his  dirk  handy  for  onybody  that  micht  try  to  stop  him, 
marched  once  round  the  table,  playing  'The  Campbells  are 
Coming,'  and  then  straucht  out  o'  the  Spittal,  his  chest  far 
afore  him,  and  his  head  so  weel  back  that  he  could  see  what 
was  going  on  ahint.  Frae  the  Spittal  to  here  he  never 
stopped  that  fearsome  tune,  and  I'se  warrant  he's  blawing 
away  at  it  at  this  moment  through  the  streets  o'  Thrums." 

Waster  Lunny  was  not  in  his  usual  spirits,  or  he  would 
have  repeated  his  story  before  he  left  me,  for  he  had  usu- 
ally as  much  difficulty  in  coming  to  an  end  as  in  finding  a 
beginning.  The  drought  was  to  him  as  serious  a  matter  as. 
death  in  the  house,  and  as  little  to  be  forgotten  for  a  length- 
ened period. 

"There's  to  be  a  prayer-meeting  for  rain  in  the  Auld  Licht 
kirk  the  night,"  he  told  me  as  I  escorted  him  as  far  as  my 
side  of  the  Ouharity,  now  almost  a  dead  stream,  pitiable  to 
see,  "and  I'm  gaen;  though  I'm  sweer  to  leave  thae  puir 
cattle  o'  mine.  You  shjuld  see  how  they  look  at  me  when 
I  gie  them  mair  o'  that  rotten  grass  to  eat.  It's  eneuch 
to  mak  a  man  greet,  for  what  richt  hae  I  to  keep  kye  when 
I  canna  meat  them  ?" 

Waster   Lunny  has  said  to  me  more  than  once  that  the- 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  189 

great  surprise  of  his  life  was  when  Elspeth  was  willing 
to  take  him.  Many  a  time,  however,  I  have  seen  that  in 
him  which  might  have  made  any  weaver's  daughter  proud  of 
such  a  man,  and  I  saw  it  again  when  we  came  to  the  river- 
side. 

"I'm  no  ane  o'  thae  farmers,"  he  said,  truthfully,  "that's 
aye  girding  at  the  weather,  and  Elspeth  and  me  kens  that 
we  hae  been  dealt  wi'  bountifully  since  we  took  this  farm 
wi'  gey  anxious  hearts.  That  woman,  dominie,  is  eneuch  to 
put  a  brave  face  on  a  coward,  and  it's  no  langer  syne  than 
yestreen  when  I  was  sitting  in  the  dumps,  looking  at  the 
aurora  borealis,  which  I  canna  but  regard  as  a  messenger  o' 
woe,  that  she  put  her  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  she  says, 
'Waster  Lunny,  twenty  years  syne  we  began  life  thegither 
wi'  nothing  but  the  claethes  on  our  back,  and  an  it  please 
God  we  can  begin  it  again,  for  I  hae  you,  and  you  hae  me, 
and  I'm  no  cast  down  if  you're  no.'  Dominie,  is  there  mony 
sic  women  in  the  warld  as  that?" 

"Many   a  one,"   I   said. 

"Ay,  man,  it  shamed  me,  for  I  hae  a  kind  o'  delight  in 
angering  Elspeth,  just  to  see  what  she'll  say.  I  could  hae 
ta'en  her  on  my  knee  at  that  minute,  but  the  bairns  was 
there,  and  so  it  wouldna  hae  dune.  But  I  cheered  her  up,  for, 
after  all,  the  drought  canna  put  us  so  far  back  as  we  was 
twenty  years  syne,  unless  it's  true  what  my  father  said,  that 
the  aurora  borealis  is  the  devil's  rainbow.  I  saw  it  sax  times 
in  July  month,  and  it  made  me  shut  my  een.  You  was  out 
admiring  it,  dominie,  but  I  can  never  forget  that  it  was  seen 
in  the  year  twelve  just  afore  the  great  storm.  I  was  only 
a  laddie  then,  but  I  mind  how  that  awful  wind  stripped  a' 
the  standing  corn  in  the  glen  in  less  time  than  we've  been 
here  at  the  water's  edge.  It  was  called  the  deil's  besom.  My 
father's  hinmost  words  to  me  was,  'It's  time  eneuch  to  greet, 
laddie,  when  you  see  the  aurora  borealis.'  I  mind  he  was 
so  complete  ruined  in  an  hour  that  he  had  to  apply  for 
relief  frae  the  poor's  rates.  Think  o'  that,  and  him  a  proud 
man.  He  would  tak  nothing  till  one  winter  day  when  we  was 
a'  starving,  and  syne  I  gaed  wi'  him  to  speir  for't,  and  he 
telled  me  to  grip  his  hand  ticht,  so  that  the  cauldness  o'  mine 
micht  gie  him  courage.  They  were  doling  out  the  charity 
in  the  Town's  House,  and  I  had  never  been  in't  afore.  I 
canna  look  at  it  now  without  thinking  o'  that  day  when  me 
and  my  father  gaed  up  the  stair  the  gither.  Mr.  Duthie 
was  presiding  at  the  time,  and  he  wasna  muckle  older  than 


140  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

Mr.  Dishart  is  now.  I  mind  he  speired  for  proof  that  we 
was  needing,  and  my  father  couldna  speak.  He  just  pointed 
at  me.  'But  you  have  a  good  coat  on  your  back  yoursel',' 
Mr.  Duthie  said,  for  there  were  mony  waiting,  sair  needing, 
'It  was  lended  him  to  come  here,'  I  cried,  and  without  a 
word  my  father  opened  the  coat,  and  they  saw  he  had  nothing 
on  aneath,  and  his  skin  blue  wi'  cauld.  Dominie,  Mr.  Duthie 
handed  him  one  shilUng  and  saxpence,  and  my  father's  fingers 
closed  greedily  on't  for  a  minute,  and  syne  it  fell  to  the 
ground.  They  put  it  back  in  his  hand,  and  it  slipped  out 
again,  and  Mr.  Duthie  gave  it  back  to  him,  saying,  'Are 
you  so  cauld  as  that?'  But,  oh,  man,  it  wasna  cauld  that 
did  it,  but  shame  o'  being  on  the  rates.  The  blood  a'  ran 
to  my  father's  head,  and  syne  left  it  as  quick,  and  he  flung 
down  the  siller  and  walked  out  o'  the  Town  House  wi'  me 
running  after  him.  We  warstled  through  that  winter,  God 
kens  how,  and  it's  near  a  pleasure  to  me  to  think  o't  now, 
for,  rain  or  no  rain,  I  can  never  be  reduced  to  sic  straits 
again." 

The  farmer  crossed  the  water  without  using  the  stilts  which 
were  no  longer  necessary,  and  I  little  thought,  as  I  returned 
to  the  schoolhouse,  what  terrible  things  were  to  happen  before 
he  could  offer  me  his  snuff-mull  again.  Serious  as  his  talk 
had  been,  it  was  neither  of  drought  nor  of  the  incident  at 
the  Spittal  that  I  sat  down  to  think.  My  anxiety  about 
Gavin  came  back  to  me  until  I  was  like  a  man  imprisoned 
between  walls  of  his  own  building.  It  may  be  that  my  pre- 
sentiments of  that  afternoon  look  gloomier  now  than  they 
were,  because  I  cannot  return  to  them  save  over  a  night  of 
agony,  black  enough  to  darken  any  time  connected  with  it. 
Perhaps  my  spirits  only  fell  as  the  wind  rose,  for  wind  ever 
takes  me  back  to  Harvie,  and  when  I  think  of  Harvie  my 
thoughts  are  of  the  saddest.  I  know  that  I  sat  for  some 
hours,  now  seeing  Gavin  pay  the  penalty  of  marrying  the 
Egyptian,  and  again  drifting  back  to  my  days  with  Mar- 
garet, until  the  wind  took  to  playing  tricks  with  me,  so 
that  I  heard  Adam  Dishart  enter  our  home  by  the  sea  every 
time  the  schoolhouse  door  shook. 

I  became  used  to  the  illusion  after  starting  several  times, 
and  thus  when  the  door  did  open,  about  seven  o'clock,  it 
was  only  the  wind  rushing  to  my  fire  like  a  shivering  dog 
that  made  me  turn  my  head.  Then  I  saw  the  Egyptian 
staring  at  me,  and  though  her  sudden  appearance  on  my 
threshold  was  a  strange  thing,  I  forgot  it  in  the  whiteness 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  141 

of  her  face.  She  was  looking  at  me  like  one  who  has  asked 
a  question  of  life  or  death,  and  stopped  her  heart  for  the 
reply. 

"What  is  it?"  I  cried,  and  for  a  moment  I  believe  I  was 
glad  she  did  not  answer.  She  seemed  to  have  told  me  already 
as  much  as  I  could  bear. 

"He  has  not  heard,"  she  said  aloud,  in  an  expressionless 
voice,  and,  turning,  would  have  slipped  away  without  another 
word. 

"Is  any  one  dead  ?"  I  asked,  seizing  her  hands  and  letting 
them  fall,  they  were  so  clammy.  She  nodded,  and  trying 
to  speak  could  not. 

"He  is  dead,"  she  said  at  last,  in  a  whisper.  "Mr.  Dishart 
is  dead,"  and  she  sat  down  quietly. 

At  that  I  covered  my  face,  crying,  "God  help  Margaret !" 
and  then  she  rose,  saying  fiercely,  so  that  I  drew  back  from 
her,  "There  is  no  Margaret;  he  only  cared  for  me." 

"She  is  his  mother,"  I  said,  hoarsely,  and  then  she  smiled 
to  me,  so  that  I  thought  her  a  harmless  mad  thing.  "He  was 
killed  by  a  piper  called  Lauchlan  Campbell,"  she  said,  looking 
up  at  me  suddenly.     "It  was  my  fault." 

"Poor  Margaret !"  I  wailed. 

"And  poor  Babbie,"  she  entreated,  pathetically;  "will  no 
one  say,  'Poor  Babbie'  ?" 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

FIRST    JOURNEY    OF    THE    DOMINIE    TO    THRUMS    DURING    THF 
TWENTY-FOUR    HOURS. 

"How  did  it  happen?"  I  asked  more  than  once,  but  the 
Egyptian  was  only  with  me  in  the  body,  and  she  did  not 
hear.  I  might  have  been  talking  to  some  one  a  mile  away 
whom  a  telescope  had  drawn  near  my  eyes. 

When  I  put  on  my  bonnet,  however,  she  knew  that  I  was 
going  to  Thrums,  and  she  rose  and  walked  to  the  door,  look- 
ing behind  to  see  that  I  followed. 

"You  must  not  come,"  I  said,  harshly,  but  her  hand  started 
to  her  heart  as  if  I  had  shot  her,  and  I  added,  quickly, 
"Come."  We  were  already  some  distance  on  our  way  before 
I  repeated  my  question. 

"What  matter  how  it  happened?"  she  answered,  piteously, 


142  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

and  they  were  words  of  which  I  felt  the  force.  But  when 
she  said  a  Httle  later,  "I  thought  you  would  say  it  is  not 
true,"  I  took  courage,  and  forced  her  to  tell  rae  all  she  knew. 
She  sobbed  while  she  spoke,  if  one  may  sob  without  tears. 

''I  heard  of  it  at  the  Spittal,"  she  said.  ''The  news  broke 
out  suddenly  there  that  the  piper  had  quarrelled  with  some 
one  in  Thrums,  and  that  in  trying  to  separate  them  Mr. 
Dishart  was  stabbed.     There  is  no  doubt  of  its  truth." 

'"We  should  have  heard  of  it  here,"  I  said,  hopefully,  "be- 
fore the  news  reached  the  Spittal.     It  cannot  be  true." 

'Tt  was  brought  to  the  Spittal,"  she  answered,  "by  the  hill 
road." 

Then  my  spirits  sank  again,  for  I  knew  that  this  was 
possible.  There  is  a  path,  steep  but  short,  across  the  hills 
between  Thrums  and  the  top  of  the  glen,  which  Mr.  Glen- 
dinning  took  frequently  when  he  had  to  preach  at  both  places 
on  the  same  Sabbath.     It  is  still  called  the  Minister's  Road. 

"Yet  if  the  earl  had  believed  it  he  would  have  sent  some 
one  into  Thrums  for  particulars,"  I  said,  grasping  at  such 
comfort  as  I  could  make. 

"He  does  believe  it,"  she  answered.  "He  told  me  of  it 
himself." 

You  see  the  Egyptian  was  careless  of  her  secret  now;  but 
what  was  that  secret  to  me?  An  hour  ago  it  would  have 
been  much,  and  already  it  was  not  worth  listening  to.  If 
6he  had  begun  to  tell  me  why  Lord  Rintoul  took  a  gypsy 
girl  into  his  confidence  I  should  not  have  heard  her. 

'T  ran  quickly,"  she  said.  "Even  if  a  messenger  was  sent 
he   might  be  behind   me." 

Was  it  her  words  or  the  tramp  of  a  horse  that  made  us 
turn  our  heads  at  that  moment?  I  know  not.  But  far  back 
in  a  twist  of  the  road  we  saw  a  horseman  approaching  at 
such  a  reckless  pace  that  I  thought  he  was  on  a  runaway. 
We  stopped  instinctively,  and  waited  for  him,  and  twice  he 
disappeared  in  hollows  of  the  road,  and  then  was  suddenly 
tearing  down  upon  us.  I  recognised  in  him  young  Mr.  Mc- 
Kenzie,  a  relative  of  Rintoul,  and  I  stretched  out  my  arms 
to  compel  him  to  draw  up.  He  misunderstood  my  motive, 
and  was  raising  his  whip  threateningly,  when  he  saw  the 
Egyptian.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  he  swayed  in  the 
saddle.  The  horse  galloped  on,  though  he  had  lost  hold  of 
the  reins.  He  looked  behind  until  he  rounded  a  corner,  and 
I  never  saw  such  amazement  mixed  with  incredulity  on  a 
human  face.     For  some  minutes  I  expected  to  see  him  com- 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  143 

ing  back,  but  when  he  did  not  I  said,  wonderingly,  to  the 
Egyptian : 

"He  knew  you." 

"Did  he?"  she  answered,  indifferently,  and  I  think  we  spoke 
no  more  until  we  were  in  Windyghoul.  Soon  we  were  barely 
conscious  of  each  other's  presence.  Never  since  have  I 
walked  between  the  schoolhouse  and  Thrums  in  so  short  a 
time,  nor  seen  so  little  on  the  way. 

In  the  Egyptian's  eyes,  I  suppose,  was  a  picture  of  Gavin 
lying  dead;  but  if  her  grief  had  killed  her  thinking  facul- 
ties, mine,  that  was  only  less  keen  because  I  had  been  struck 
down  once  before,  had  set  all  the  wheels  of  my  brain  in 
action.  For  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  hour  had  come  when 
I  must  disclose  myself  to   Margaret. 

I  had  realised  always  that  if  such  a  necessity  did  arise 
it  could  only  be  caused  by  Gavin's  premature  death,  or  by  his 
proving  a  bad  son  to  her.  Some  may  wonder  that  I  could 
have  looked  calmly  thus  far  into  the  possible,  but  I  reply 
that  the  night  of  Adam  Dishart's  home-coming  had  made 
of  me  a  man  whom  the  future  could  not  surprise  again. 
Though  I  saw  Gavin  and  his  mother  happy  in  our  Auld 
Licht  manse,  that  did  not  prevent  my  considering  the  con- 
tingencies which  might  leave  her  without  a  son.  In  the 
schoolhouse  I  had  brooded  over  them  as  one  may  think 
over  moves  on  a  draught-board.  It  may  have  been  idle,  but 
it  was  done  that  I  might  know  how  to  act  best  for  Margaret 
if  anything  untoward  occurred.  The  time  for  such  action 
had  come.  Gavin's  death  had  struck  me  hard,  but  it  did  not 
crush  me.  I  was  not  unprepared.  I  was  going  to  Margaret 
now. 

What  did  I  see  as  I  walked  quickly  along  the  glen  road, 
with  Babbie  silent  by  my  side,  and  I  doubt  not  pods  of  the 
broom  crackling  all  around  us?  I  saw  myself  entering  the 
Auld  Licht  manse,  where  Margaret  sat  weeping  over  the 
body  of  Gavin,  and  there  was  none  to  break  my  coming  to 
her,  for  none  but  she  and  I  knew  what  had  been. 

I  saw  my  Margaret  again,  so  fragile  now,  so  thin  the 
wrists,  her  hair  turned  gray.  No  nearer  could  I  go,  but 
stopped  at  the  door,  grieving  for  her,  and  at  last  saying  her 
name  aloud. 

I  saw  her  raise  her  face,  and  look  upon  me  for  the  first 
time  for  eighteen  years.  She  did  not  scream  at  sight  of 
me,  for  the  body  of  her  son  lay  between  us,  and  bridged 
the  gulf  that  Adam  Dishart  had  made. 


144  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

I  saw  myself  draw  near  her  reverently  and  say,  "Mar- 
garet, he  is  dead,  and  that  is  why  I  have  come  back,"  and 
I  saw  her  put  her  arms  round  my  neck  as  she  often  did 
long  ago. 

But  it  was  not  to  be.  Never  since  that  night  at  Harvie 
have  I  spoken  to  Margaret. 

The  Egyptian  and  I  were  to  come  to  Windyghoul  before 
I  heard  her  speak.  She  was  not  addressing  me.  Here  Gavin 
and  she  had  met  first,  and  she  was  talking  of  that  meeting 
to  herself. 

''It  was  there,"  I  heard  her  say,  softly,  as  she  gazed  at 
the  bush  beneath  which  she  had  seen  him  shaking  his  fist  at 
her  on  the  night  of  the  riots.  A  little  farther  on  she  stopped 
where  a  path  from  Windyghoul  sets  off  for  the  well  in  the 
wood.  She  looked  up  it  wistfully,  and  there  I  left  her 
behind,  and  pressed  on  to  the  mud  house  to  ask  Nanny  Web- 
ster if  the  minister  was  dead.  Nanny's  gate  was  swinging 
in  the  wind,  but  her  door  was  shut,  and  for  a  moment  I  stood 
at  it  like  a  coward,  afraid  to  enter  and  hear  the  worst. 

The  house  was  empty.  I  turned  from  it  relieved,  as  if 
I  had  got  a  respite,  and  while  I  stood  in  the  garden  the 
Egyptian  came  to  me  shuddering,  her  twitching  face  asking 
the  question  that  would  not  leave  her  lips. 

"There  is  no  one  in  the  house,"  I  said.  "Nanny  is  perhaps 
at  the  well." 

But  the  gypsy  went  inside,  and,  pointing  to  the  fire,  said, 
"It  has  been  out  for  hours.  Do  you  not  see?  The  murder 
has  drawn  every  one  into  Thrums." 

So  I  feared.  A  dreadful  night  was  to  pass  before  I  knew 
that  this  was  the  day  of  the  release  of  Sanders  Webster,  and 
that  frail  Nanny  had  walked  into  Tilliedrum  to  meet  him  at 
the  prison  gate. 

Babbie  sank  upon  a  stool,  so  weak  that  I  doubt  whether 
she  heard  me  tell  her  to  wait  there  until  my  return.  I  hur- 
ried into  Thrums,  not  by  the  hill,  though  it  is  the  shorter 
way,  but  by  the  Roods,  for  I  must  hear  all  before  I  ventured 
to  approach  the  manse.  From  Windyghoul  to  the  top  of 
the  Roods,  it  is  a  climb  and  then  a  steep  descent.  The  road 
has  no  sooner  reached  its  highest  point  than  it  begins  to 
fall  in  the  straight  line  of  houses  called  the  Roods,  and 
thus  I  came  upon  a  full  view  of  the  street  at  once.  A  cart 
was  labouring  up  it.  There  were  women  sitting  on  stones 
at  their  doors,  and  girls  playing  at  palaulays,  and  out  of 
the  house  nearest  me  came  a  black  figure.     My  eyes  failed 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  145 

me;  I  was  asking  so  much  from  them.  They  made  him  tall 
and  short,  and  spare  and  stout,  so  that  I  knew  it  was  Gavin, 
and  yet,  looking  again,  feared,  but  all  the  time,  I  think,  I 
knew  it  was  he. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE   HILL  BEFORE  DARKNESS  FELL — SCENE  OF  THE  IMPENDING 
CATASTROPHE. 

"You  are  better  now?"  I  heard  Gavin  ask,  presently. 

He  thought  that  having  been  taken  ill  suddenly  I  had 
waved  to  him  for  help  because  he  chanced  to  be  near.  With 
all  my  wits  about  me  I  might  have  left  him  in  that  belief, 
for  rather  would  I  have  deceived  him  than  had  him  wonder 
why  his  welfare  seemed  so  vital  to  me.  But  I,  who  thought 
the  capacity  for  being  taken  aback  had  gone  from  me,  clung 
to  his  arm,  and  thanked  God  audibly  that  he  still  lived.  He 
did  not  tell  me  then  how  my  agitation  puzzled  him,  but  led 
me  kindly  to  the  hill,  where  we  could  talk  without  listeners. 
By  the  time  we  reached  it  I  was  again  wary,  and  I  had  told 
him  what  had  brought  me  to  Thrums,  without  mentioning 
how  the  story  of  his  death  reached  my  ears,  or  through 
whom. 

"Mr.  McKenzie,"  he  said,  interrupting  me,  "galloped  all 
the  way  from  the  Spittal  on  the  same  errand.  However,  no 
one  has  been  hurt  much,  except  the  piper  himself." 

Then  he  told  me  how  the  rumour  arose. 

"You  know  of  the  incident  at  the  Spittal,  and  that  Camp- 
bell marched  off  in  high  dudgeon?  I  understand  that  he 
spoke  to  no  one  between  the  Spittal  and  Thrums,  but  by  the 
time  he  arrived  here  he  was  more  communicative,  yes,  and 
thirstier.  He  was  treated  to  drink  in  several  public-houses 
by  persons  who  wanted  to  hear  his  story,  and  by  and  by  he 
began  to  drop  hints  of  knowing  something  against  the  earl's 
bride.     Do  you  know  Rob  Dow  ?" 

"Yes,"   I   answered,   "and  what  you  have  done   for  him." 

"Ah,  sir !"  he  said,  sighing,  "for  a  long  time  I  thought  I 
was  to  be  God's  instrument  in  making  a  better  man  of  Rob, 
but  my  power  over  him  went  long  ago.  Ten  short  months  of 
the  ministry  takes  some  of  the  vanity  out  of  a  man." 

Looking  sideways  at  him  I  was  startled  by  the  unnatural 


146  THE  LITTLE  :MINISTER 

brightness  of  his  eyes.  Unconsciously  he  had  acquired  the 
habit  of  pressing  his  teeth  together  in  the  pauses  of  his 
talk,  shutting  them  on  some  woe  that  would  proclaim  itself, 
as  men  do  who  keep  their  misery  to  themselves. 

"A  few  hours  ago,"  he  went  on,  "I  heard  Rob's  voice  in 
altercation  as  I  passed  the  Bull  tavern,  and  I  had  a  feeling 
that  if  I  failed  with  him  so  should  I  fail  always  throughout 
my  ministry.  I  walked  into  the  public-house,  and  stopped  at 
the  door  of  a  room  in  which  Dow  and  the  piper  were  sitting 
drinking.  I  heard  Rob  saying,  fiercely,  'If  what  you  say 
about  her  is  true,  Highlandman,  she's  the  woman  I've  been 
looking  for  this  half  year  and  mair;  what  is  she  like?' 
I  guessed,  from  what  I  had  been  told  of  the  piper,  that  they 
were  speaking  of  the  earl's  bride;  but  Rob  saw  me  and  came 
to  an  abrupt  stop,  saying  to  his  companion,  'Dinna  say  an- 
other word  about  her  afore  the  minister.'  Rob  would  have 
come  away  at  once,  in  answer  to  my  appeal,  but  the  piper 
was  drunk,  and  would  not  be  silenced.  'I'll  tell  the  minister 
about  her,  too,'  he  began.  'You  dinna  ken  what  you're  doing,' 
Rob  roared,  and  then,  as  if  to  save  my  ears  from  scandal 
at  any  cost,  he  struck  Campbell  a  heavy  blow  on  the  mouth. 
I  tried  to  intercept  the  blow,  with  the  result  that  I  fell,  and 
then  some  one  ran  out  of  the  tavern  crying,  'He's  killed !' 
The  piper  had  been  stunned,  but  the  story  went  abroad  that 
he  had  stabbed  me  for  interfering  with  him.  That  is  really 
all.  Nothing,  as  you  know,  can  overtake  an  untruth  if  it 
has  a  minute's  start." 

"Where  is  Campbell  now?" 

"Sleeping  off  the  effect  of  the  blow ;  but  Dow  has  fled. 
He  was  terrified  at  the  shouts  of  murder,  and  ran  off  up  the 
West  Town  end.  The  doctor's  dog-cart  was  standing  at  a 
door  there,  and  Rob  jumped  into  it  and  drove  off.  They 
did  not  chase  him  far,  because  he  is  sure  to  hear  the  truth 
soon,  and  then,  doubtless,  he  will  come  back." 

Though  in  a  few  hours  we  were  to  wonder  at  our  dense- 
ness,  neither  Gavin  nor  I  saw  why  Dow  had  struck  the 
Highlander  down  rather  than  let  him  tell  his  story  in  the 
minister's  presence.  One  moment's  suspicion  would  have 
lit  our  way  to  the  whole  truth,  but  of  the  spring  to  all  Rob's 
behaviour  in  the  past  eight  months  we  were  ignorant,  and 
so  to  Gavin  the  Bull  had  only  been  the  scene  of  a  drunken 
brawl,  while  I  forgot  to  think  in  the  joy  of  finding  him 
alive. 

"I  have  a  prayer-meeting  for  rain  presently,"  Gavin  said. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  147 

breaking  a  picture  that  had  just  appeared  unpleasantly  be- 
fore me  of  Babbie  still  in  agony  at  Nanny's,  "but  before 
I  leave  you,  tell  me  why  this  rumour  caused  you  such 
distress." 

The  question  troubled  me,  and  I  tried  to  avoid  it.  Cross- 
ing the  hill  we  had  by  this  time  drawn  near  a  hollow  called 
the  Toad's-hole,  then  gay  and  noisy  v/ith  a  caravan  of 
gypsies.  They  were  those  same  wild  Lindsays,  for  whom 
Gavin  had  searched  Caddam  one  eventful  night,  and  as  I  saw 
them  crowding  round  their  king,  a  man  well  known  to  me, 
I  guessed  what  they  were  at. 

"Mr.  Dishart,"  I  said,  abruptly,  "would  you  like  to  see 
a  gypsy  marriage?  One  is  taking  place  there  just  now. 
That  big  fellow  is  the  king,  and  he  is  about  to  marry  two  of 
his  people  over  the  tongs.  The  ceremony  will  not  detain 
us  five  minutes,  though  the  rejoicings  will  go  on  all  night." 

I  have  been  present  at  more  than  one  gypsy  wedding  in 
my  time,  and  at  the  wild,  weird  orgies  that  followed  them, 
but  what  is  interesting  to  such  as  I  may  not  be  for  a  min- 
ister's eyes,  and,  frowning  at  my  proposal,  Gavin  turned 
his  back  upon  the  Toad's-hole.  Then,  as  we  recrossed  the 
hill,  to  get  away  from  the  din  of  the  camp,  I  pointed  out  to 
him  that  the  report  of  his  death  had  brought  McKenzie  to 
Thrums,  as  well  as  me. 

"As  soon  as  McKenzie  heard  I  was  not  dead,"  he  answered, 
"he  galloped  off  to  the  Spittal,  without  even  seeing  me.  I 
suppose  he  posted  back  to  be  in  time  for  the  night's  re- 
joicings there.  So  you  see,  it  was  not  solicitude  for  me 
that  brought  him.  He  came  because  a  servant  at  the  Spittal 
was  supposed  to  have  done  the  deed." 

"Well,  Mr.  Dishart,"  I  had  to  say,  "why  should  I  deny 
that  I  have  a  warm  regard  for  you?  You  have  done  brave 
work  in  our  town." 

"It  has  been  little,"  he  replied.  "With  God's  help  it  will 
be  more  in  future." 

He  meant  that  he  had  given  time  to  his  sad  love  affair 
that  he  owed  to  his  people.  Of  seeing  Babbie  again  I  saw 
that  he  had  given  up  hope.  Instead  of  repining,  he  was 
devoting  his  whole  soul  to  God's  work.  I  was  proud  of 
him,  and  yet  I  grieved,  for  I  could  not  think  that  God  wanted 
him  to  bury  his  youth  so  soon. 

"I  had  thought,"  he  confessed  to  me,  "that  you  were  one 
of  those  who  did  not  like  my  preaching." 

"You  were  mistaken,"  I   said,  gravely.     I  dared  not  tell 


148  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

him  that,  except  his  mother,  none  would  have  sat  under 
him  so  eagerly  as  I. 

"Nevertheless,"  he  said,  "j'ou  were  a  member  of  the  Auld 
Licht  church  in  Mr.  Carfrae's  time,  and  you  left  it  when 
I  came." 

"I  heard  your  first  sermon,"  I  said. 

"Ah,"  he  replied.  "I  had  not  been  long  in  Thrums  before 
I  discovered  that  if  I  took  tea  with  any  of  my  congregation 
and  declined  a  second  cup,  they  thought  it  a  reflection  on 
their  brewing." 

"You  must  not  look  upon  my  absence  in  that  light,"  was 
all  I  could  say.     "There  are  reasons  why  I  cannot  come." 

He  did  not  press  me  further,  thinking  I  meant  that  the 
distance  was  too  great,  though  frailer  folk  than  I  walked 
twenty  miles  to  hear  him.  We  might  have  parted  thus  had 
we  not  wandered  by  chance  to  the  very  spot  where  I  had 
met  him  and  Babbie.  There  is  a  seat  there  now  for  those 
who  lose  their  breath  on  the  climb  up,  and  so  I  have  two  rea- 
sons nowadays  for  not  passing  the  place  by. 

We  read  each  other's  thoughts,  and  Gavin  said,  calmly, 
"I  have  not  seen  her  since  that  night.  She  disappeared  as 
into  a  grave." 

How  could  I  answer  when  I  knew  that  Babbie  was  dying 
for  want  of  him,  not  half  a  mile  away? 

"You  seemed  to  understand  everything  that  night,"  he  went 
on;  "or  if  you  did  not,  your  thoughts  were  very  generous 
to  me." 

In  my  sorrow  for  him  I  did  not  notice  that  we  were  mov- 
ing on  again,  this  time  in  the  direction  of  Windyghoul. 

"She  was  only  a  gypsy  girl,"  he  said,  abruptly,  and  I 
nodded.  "But  I  hoped,"  he  continued,  "that  she  would  be 
my  wife." 

"I  understood  that,"  I  said. 

"There  was  nothing  monstrous  to  you,"  he  asked,  looking 
me  in  the  face,  "in  a  minister's  marrying  a  gypsy?" 

I  own  that  if  I  had  loved  a  girl,  how  ever  far  below  or 
above  me  in  degree,  I  would  have  married  her  had  she  been 
willing  to  take  me.  But  to  Gavin  I  only  answered,  "These 
are  matters  a  man  must  decide  for  himself." 

"I  had  decided  for  myself,"  he  said,  emphatically. 

"Yet,"  I  said,  wanting  him  to  talk  to  me  of  Margaret, 
"in  such  a  case  one  might  have  others  to  consider  besides 
himself." 

"A  man's  marriage,"  he  answered,  "is  his  own  affair.     I 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  149 

v,-ould  have  brooked  no  interference  from  my  congrega- 
tion." 

I  thought,  "There  is  some  obstinacy  left  in  him  still;" 
but  aloud  I  said,  "It  was  of  your  mother  I  was  thinking." 

"She  would  have  taken  Babbie  to  her  heart,"  he  said,  with 
the  fond  conviction  of  a  lover. 

I  doubted  it,  but  I  only  asked,  "Your  mother  knows  noth- 
ing of  her?" 

"Nothing,"  he  rejoined.  "It  would  be  cruelty  to  tell  my 
mother  of  her  now  that  she  is  gone." 

Gavin's  calmness  had  left  him,  and  he  was  striding  quickly 
nearer  to  Windyghoul.  I  was  in  dread  lest  he  should  see 
the  Egyptian  at  Nanny's  door,  yet  to  have  turned  him  in 
another  direction  might  have  roused  his  suspicions.  When 
we  were  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the  mud  house,  I  knew 
that  there  was  no  Babbie  in  sight.  We  halved  the  distance, 
and  then  I  saw  her  at  the  open  window.  Gavin's  eyes  were 
on  the  ground,  but  she  saw  him.  I  held  my  breath,  fearing 
that  she  would  run  out  to  him. 

"You  have  never  seen  her  since  that  night?"  Gavin  asked 
me,  without  hope  in  his  voice. 

Had  he  been  less  hopeless,  he  would  have  wondered  why 
I  did  not  reply  immediately.  I  was  looking  covertly  at  the 
mud  house,  of  which  we  were  now  within  a  few  yards. 
Babbie's  face  had  gone  from  the  window,  and  the  door 
remained  shut.  That  she  could  hear  every  word  we  uttered 
now,  I  could  not  doubt.  But  she  was  hiding  from  the  man 
for  whom  her  soul  longed.  She  was  sacrificing  herself 
for  him. 

"Never,"  I  answered,  notwithstanding  my  pity  of  the 
brave  girl,  and  then,  while  I  was  shaking  lest  he  should  go 
in  to  visit  Nanny,  I  heard  the  echo  of  the  Auld  Licht  bell. 

"That  calls  me  to  the  meeting  for  rain,"  Gavin  said, 
bidding  me  good  night.  I  had  acted  for  Margaret,  and  yet 
I  had  hardly  the  effrontery  to  take  his  hand.  I  suppose  he 
saw  sympathy  in  my  face,  for  suddenly  the  cry  broke  from 
him: 

"If  I  could  only  know  that  nothing  evil  had  befallen  her!" 

Babbie  heard  him  and  could  not  restrain  a  heart-breaking 
sob. 

"What  was  that  ?"  he  said,  starting. 

A  moment  I  waited,  to  let  her  show  herself  if  she  chose. 
But  the  mud  house  was  silent  again. 

"It  was  some  boy  in  the  wood,"  I  answered. 


160  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Good-bye,"  he  said,  trying  to  smile. 

Had  I  let  him  go,  here  would  have  been  the  end  of  his 
love  story,  but  that  piteous  smile  unmanned  me,  and  I  could 
not  keep  the  words  back. 

"She  is  in  Nanny's  house,"  I  cried. 

In  another  moment  these  two  were  together  for  weal 
or  woe,  and  I  had  set  off  dizzily  for  the  schoolhouse,  feel- 
ing now  that  I  had  been  false  to  Margaret,  and  again  exult- 
ing in  what  I  had  done.  By  and  by  the  bell  stopped,  and 
Gavin  and  Babbie  regarded  it  as  little  as  I  heeded  the  burns 
now  crossing  the  glen  road  noisily  at  places  that  had  been 
dry  two  hours  before. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

STORY  OF  THE   EGYPTIAN. 

God  gives  us  more  than,  were  we  not  over-bold,  we  should 
dare  to  ask  for,  and  yet  how  often  (perhaps  after  saying 
"Thank  God"  so  curtly  that  it  is  only  a  form  of  swearing) 
we  are  suppliants  again  within  the  hour.  Gavin  was  to  be 
satisfied  if  he  were  told  that  no  evil  had  befallen  her  he 
loved,  and  all  the  way  between  the  schoolhouse  and  Windy- 
ghoul  Babbie  craved  for  no  more  than  Gavin's  life.  Now 
they  had  got  their  desires ;  but  do  you  think  they  were 
content  ? 

The  Egyptian  had  gone  on  her  knees  when  she  heard 
Gavin  speak  of  her.  It  was  her  way  of  preventing  her- 
self from  running  to  him.  Then,  when  she  thought  him 
gone,  he  opened  the  door.  She  rose  and  shrank  back,  but 
first  she  had  stepped  towards  him  with  a  glad  cry.  His 
disappointed  arms  met  on  nothing. 

"You.  too,  heard  that  I  was  dead?"  he  said,  thinking  her 
strangeness  but  grief  too  sharply  turned  to  joy. 

There  were  tears  in  the  word  with  which  she  answered 
him,  and  he  would  have  kissed  her,  but  she  defended  her 
face  with  her  hand. 

"Babbie,"  he  asked,  beginning  to  fear  that  he  had  not 
sounded  her  deepest  woe,  "why  have  you  left  me  all  this 
time?     You  are  not  glad  to  see  me  now?" 

"I  was  glad,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice,  "to  see  you 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  151 

from  the  window,  but  I  prayed  to  God  not  to  let  you  see 
me." 

She  even  pulled  away  her  hand  when  he  would  have 
taken  it.  "No,  no,  I  am  to  tell  you  everything  now,  and 
then—" 

"Say  that  you  love  me  first,"  he  broke  in,  when  a  sob 
checked    her    speaking. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  must  tell  you  first  what  I  have  done, 
and  then  you  will  not  ask  me  to  say  that.  I  am  not  a 
gypsy." 

"What  of  that?"  cried  Gavin.  "It  was  not  because  you 
were  a  gypsy  that  I  loved  you." 

"That  is  the  last  time  you  will  say  you  love  me."  said 
fiabbie.     "Mr.  Dishart,  I  am  to  be  married  to-morrow." 

She  stopped,  afraid  to  say  more  lest  he  should  fall,  but 
except  that  his  arms  twitched  he  did  not  move. 

"I  am  to  be  married  to  Lord  Rintoul,"  she  went  on.  "Now 
you  know  who  I  am." 

She  turned  from  him,  for  his  piercing  eyes  frightened 
her.  Never  again,  she  knew,  would  she  see  the  love-light 
in  them.  He  plucked  himself  from  the  spot  where  he  had 
stood  looking  at  her  and  walked  to  the  window.  When  he 
wheeled  round  there  was  no  anger  on  his  face,  only  a  pathetic 
wonder  that  he  had  been  deceived  so  easily.  It  was  at  him- 
self that  he  was  smiling  grimly  rather  than  at  her,  and  the 
change  pained  Babbie  as  no  words  could  have  hurt  her.  He 
sat  down  on  a  chair  and  waited  for  her  to  go  on. 

"Don't  look  at  me,"  she  said,  "and  I  will  tell  you  every- 
thing." He  dropped  his  eyes  listlessly,  and  had  he  not  asked 
her  a  question  from  time  to  time,  she  would  have  doubted 
whether  he  heard  her. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  "a  gypsy  dress  is  my  birthright,  and 
so  the  Thrums  people  were  scarcely  wrong  in  calling  me  an 
Egyptian.  It  is  a  pity  any  one  insisted  on  making  me  some- 
thing different.     I  believe  I  could  have  been  a  good  gypsy." 

"\Vho  were  your  parents?"  Gavin  asked,  without  looking 
up. 

"You  ask  that,"  she  said,  "because  you  have  a  good  mother. 
It  is  not  a  question  that  would  occur  to  me.  My  mother — ■ 
If  she  was  bad,  may  not  that  be  some  excuse  for  me?  Ah, 
but  I  have  no  wish  to  excuse  myself.  Have  you  seen  a 
gypsy  cart  with  a  sort  of  hammock  swung  beneath  it  in 
which  gypsy  children  are  carried  about  the  country?  If 
there  are  no  children,  the  pots  and  pans  are  stored  in  it. 


152  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  i 

Unless  the  roads  are  rough  it  makes  a  comfortable  cradle, 
and  it  was  the  only  one  I  ever  knew.  Well,  one  day  I 
suppose  the  road  was  rough,  for  I  was  capsized.  I  remember 
picking  myself  up  after  a  little  and  running  after  the  cart, 
but  they  did  not  hear  my  cries.  I  sat  down  by  the  roadside 
and  stared  after  the  cart  until  I  lost  sight  of  it.  That  was 
in  England,  and  I  was  not  three  years  old." 

"But  surely,"  Gavin  said,  "they  came  back  to  look  for 
you  ?" 

"So  far  as  I  know,"  Babbie  answered,  hardly,  "they  did 
not  come  back.  I  have  never  seen  them  since.  I  think 
they  were  drunk.  My  only  recollection  of  my  mother  is  that 
she  once  took  me  to  see  the  dead  body  of  some  gypsy  who 
had  been  murdered.  She  told  me  to  dip  my  hand  in  the 
blood,  so  that  I  could  say  I  had  done  so  when  I  became  a 
woman.  It  was  meant  as  a  treat  to  me,  and  is  the  one  kind- 
ness I  am  sure  I  got  from  her.  Curiously  enough,  I  felt 
the  shame  of  her  deserting  me  for  many  years  afterwards. 
As  a  child  I  cried  hysterically  at  thought  of  it ;  it  pained 
me  when  I  was  at  school  in  Edinburgh  every  time  I  saw  the 
other  girls  writing  home;  I  cannot  think  of  it  without  a 
shudder  even  now.  It  is  what  makes  me  worse  than  other 
women." 

Her  voice  had  altered,  and  she  was  speaking  passionately. 

"Sometimes,"  she  continued,  more  gently,  "I  try  to  think 
that  my  mother  did  come  back  for  me,  and  then  went  away 
because  she  heard  I  was  in  better  hands  than  hers.  It  was 
Lord  Rintoul  who  found  me,  and  I  owe  everything  to  him. 
You  will  say  that  he  has  no  need  to  be  proud  of  me.  He 
took  me  home  on  his  horse,  and  paid  his  gardener's  wife 
to  rear  me.  She  was  Scotch,  and  that  is  why  I  can  speak 
two  languages.  It  was  he,  too,  who  sent  me  to  school  in 
Edinburgh." 

"He  has  been  very  kind  to  you,"  said  Gavin,  who  would 
have  preferred  to  dislike  the  earl. 

"So  kind,"  answered  Babbie,  "that  nov/  he  is  to  marry  me. 
But  do  you  know  why  he  has  done  all  this  ?" 

Now  again  she  was  agitated,  and  spoke  indignantly. 

"It  is  all  because  I  have  a  pretty  face,"  she  said,  her 
bosom  rising  and  falling.  "Men  think  of  nothing  else.  He 
had  no  pity  for  the  deserted  child.  I  knew  that  while  I  was 
yet  on  his  horse.  When  he  came  to  the  gardener's  after- ' 
wards,  it  was  not  to  give  me  some  one  to  love,  it  was  only 
to  look  upon  what  was  called  my  beauty;  I  was  merely  a 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  153 


picture  to  him,  and  even  the  gardener's  children  knew  it  and 
sought  to  terrify  me  by  saying,  'You  are  losing  your  looks; 
the  earl  will  not  care  for  you  any  more.'  Sometimes  he 
brought  his  friends  to  see  me,  'because  I  was  such  a  lovely 
child/  and  if  they  did  not  agree  with  him  on  that  point  he 
left  without  kissing  me.  Throughout  my  whole  girlhood  I 
was  taught  nothing  but  to  please  him,  and  the  only  way  to 
do  that  was  to  be  pretty.  It  was  the  only  virtue  worth 
striving  for ;  the  others  were  never  thought  of  when  he  asked 
how  I  was  getting  on.  Once  I  had  fever  and  nearly  died, 
yet  this  knowledge  that  my  face  was  everything  was  im- 
planted in  me  so  that  my  fear  lest  he  should  think  me 
ugly  when  I  recovered  terrified  me  into  hysterics.  I  dream 
still  that  I  am  in  that  fever,  and  all  my  fears  return.  He 
did  think  me  ugly  when  he  saw  me  next.  I  remember  the 
'incident  so  well  still.  I  had  run  to  him,  and  he  was  lifting 
me  up  to  kiss  me  when  he  saw  that  my  face  had  changed. 
'What  a  cruel  disappointment,'  he  said,  and  turned  his  back 
on  me.  I  had  given  him  a  child's  love  until  then,  but  from 
that  day  I  was  hard  and  callous." 

"And  when  was  it  you  became  beautiful  again?"  Gavin 
asked,  by  no  means  in  the  mind  to  pay  compliments. 

"A  year  passed,"  she  continued,  "before  I  saw  him  again- 
In  that  time  he  had  not  asked  for  me  once,  and  the  gardener 
had  kept  me  out  of  charity.  It  was  by  an  accident  that  we 
met,  and  at  first  he  did  not  know  me.  Then  he  said,  'Why, 
Babbie,  I  believe  you  are  to  be  a  beauty,  after  all !'  I  hated 
him  for  that,  and  stalked  away  from  him,  but  he  called  after 
me,  'Bravo !  she  walks  like  a  queen ;'  and  it  was  because  I 
walked  like  a  queen  that  he  sent  me  to  an  Edinburgh  school. 
He  used  to  come  to  see  me  every  year,  and  as  I  grew  up  the 
girls  called  me  Lady  Rintoul.  He  was  not  fond  of  me ;  he 
is  not  fond  of  me  now.  He  would  as  soon  think  of  looking 
at  the  back  of  a  picture  as  at  what  I  am  apart  from  my 
face,  but  he  dotes  on  it,  and  is  to  marry  it.  Is  that  love? 
Long  before  I  left  school,  which  was  shortly  before  you 
came  to  Thrums,  he  had  told  his  sister  that  he  was  deter- 
mined to  marry  me,  and  she  hated  me  for  it,  making  me  as 
uncomfortable  as  she  could,  so  that  I  almost  looked  forward 
to  the  marriage  because  it  would  be  such  a  humiliation  to 
her." 

In  admitting  this  she  looked  shamefacedly  at  Gavin,  and 
then  went  on : 

"It  is  humiliating  him,  too.    I  understand  him.    He  would 


154  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  i 

like  not  to  want  to  marry  me,  for  he  is  ashamed  of  my 
'  origin,  hut  he  cannot  help  it.  It  is  this  feeling  that  has 
brought  him  here,  so  that  the  marriage  may  take  place  where 
my  history  is  not  known." 

"The  secret  has  been  well  kept,"  Gavin  said,  "for  they 
have  failed  to  discover  it  even  in  Thrums." 

"Some  of  the  Spittal  servants  suspect  it,  nevertheless,** 
Babbie  answered,  "though  how  much  they  know  I  cannot 
say.  He  has  not  a  servant  now,  either  here  or  in  England, 
who  knew  me  as  a  child.  The  gardener  who  befriended  me 
was  sent  away  long  ago.  Lord  Rintoul  looks  upon  me  as  a 
disgrace  to  him  that  he  cannot  live  without." 

"I  daresay  he  cares  for  you  more  than  you  think,"  Gavin 
said,  gravely. 

"He  is  infatuated  about  my  face,  or  the  pose  of  my  head, 
or  something  of  that  sort,"  Babbie  said,  bitterly,  "or  he 
would  not  have  endured  me  so  long.  I  have  twice  had  the 
wedding  postponed,  chiefly,  I  believe,  to  enrage  my  natural 
enemy,  his  sister,  who  is  as  much  aggravated  by  my  re- 
luctance to  marry  him  as  by  his  desire  to  marry  me.  How- 
ever, I  also  felt  that  imprisonment  for  life  was  approaching 
as  the  day  drew  near,  and  I  told  him  that  if  he  did  not 
defer  the  wedding  I  should  run  away.  He  knows  I  am  ca- 
pable of  it,  for  twice  I  ran  away  from  school.  If  his  sister 
only  knew  that !" 

For  a  moment  it  was  the  old  Babbie  Gavin  saw;  but  her 
glee  was  short-lived,  and  she  resumed,  sedately: 

"They  were  kind  to  me  at  school,  but  the  life  was  so  dull 
and  prim  that  I  ran  off  in  a  gypsy  dress  of  my  own  making. 
That  is  what  it  is  to  have  gypsy  blood  in  one.  I  was  away 
for  a  week  the  first  time,  wandering  the  country  alone,  telling 
fortunes,  dancing  and  singing  in  woods,  and  sleeping  in 
barns.  I  am  the  only  woman  in  the  world  well  brought  up 
who  is  not  afraid  of  mice  or  rats.  That  is  my  gypsy  blood 
again.  After  that  wild  week  I  went  back  to  the  school  of  my 
own  will,  and  no  one  knows  of  the  escapade  but  my  school- 
mistress and  Lord  Rintoul." 

"And  then  you  came  to  the  Spittal?" 

"Yes ;  and  Lord  Rintoul  wanted  me  to  say  I  was  sorry 
for  what  I  had  done,  but  I  told  him  I  need  not  say  that, 
for  I  was  sure  to  do  it  again.  As  you  know,  I  have  done 
it  several  times  since  then;  and  though  I  am  a  different 
woman  since  I  knew  you,  I  dare  say  I  shall  go  on  doing  it 
at  times  all  my  life.     You  shake  your  head  because  you  do 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  155 

not  understand.  It  is  not  that  I  make  up  my  mind  to  break 
out  in  that  way;  I  may  not  have  had  the  least  desire  to 
do  it  for  weeks,  and  then  suddenly,  when  I  am  out  riding,  or 
at  dinner,  or  at  a  dance,  the  craving-  to  be  a  gypsy  again  is 
so  strong  that  I  never  think  of  resisting  it;  I  would  risk 
my  life  to  gratify  it.  Yes,  whatever  my  life  in  the  future  is 
to'  be,  I  know  that  must  be  a  part  of  it.  1  used  to  pretend 
at  the  Spittal  that  I  had  gone  to  bed,  and  then  escape  by 
the  window.  I  was  mad  with  glee  at  those  times,  but  I  al- 
ways returned  before  morning,  except  once,  the  last  time 
I  saw  you,  when  I  was  away  for  nearly  twenty- four  hours. 
Lord  Rintoul  was  so  glad  to  see  me  come  back  then  that 
he  almost  forgave  me  for  going  away.  There  is  nothing 
more  to  tell  except  that  on  the  night  of  the  riot  it  was  not 
my  gypsy  nature  that  brought  me  to  Thrums,  but  a  desire 
to  save  the  poor  weavers.  I  had  heard  Lord  Rintoul  and  the 
sheriff  discussing  the  contemplated  raid.  I  have  hidden  noth- 
ing from  you.  In  time,  perhaps,  I  shall  have  suffered  suffi- 
ciently for  all  my  wickedness." 

Gavin  rose  weariedly,  and  walked  through  the  mud  house 
looking  at  her. 

"This  is  the  end  of  it  all,"  he  said,  harshly,  coming  to  a 
standstill.     "I  love  you.  Babbie." 

"No,"  she  answered,  shaking  her  head.  "You  never  knew 
me  until  now,  and  so  it  was  not  me  you  loved.  I  know 
what  you  thought  I  was,  and  I  will  try  to  be  it  now." 

"If  you  had  only  told  me  this  before,"  the  minister  said, 
sadly,  "it  might  not  have  been  too  late." 

"I  only  thought  you  like  all  the  other  men  I  knew,"  she 
replied,  "until  the  night  I  came  to  the  manse.  It  was  only  my 
face  you  admired  at  first." 

"No,  it  was  never  that,"  Gavin  said  with  such  conviction 
that  her  mouth  opened  in  alarm  to  ask  him  if  he  did  not 
think  her  pretty.  She  did  not  speak,  however,  and  he  con- 
tinued, "You  must  have  known  that  I  loved  you  from  the 
first  night." 

"No;  you  only  amused  me,"  she  said,  like  one  determined 
to  stint  nothing  of  the  truth.  "Even  at  the  well  I  laughed 
at  your  vows." 

This  wounded  Gavin  afresh,  wretched  as  her  story  had 
made  him,  and  he  said,  tragically,  "You  have  never  cared  for 
me  at  all." 

"Oh,  always,  always,"  she  answered,  "since  I  knew  what 
love  was ;  and  it  was  you  who  taught  me." 


156  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


Even  in  his  misery  he  held  his  head  high  with  pride.  At 
least  she  did  love  him. 

"And  then,"  Babbie  said,  hiding  her  face,  "I  could  not  tell 
you  what  I  was  because  I  knew  you  would  loathe  me.  I 
could  only  go  away." 

She  looked  at  him  forlornly  through  her  tears,  and  then 
moved  towards  the  door.  He  had  sunk  upon  a  stool,  his 
face  resting  on  the  table,  and  it  was  her  intention  to  slip 
away  unnoticed.  But  he  heard  the  latch  rise,  and,  jumping 
up.  said  sharply,  "Babbie,  I  cannot  give  you  up." 

She  stood  in  tears,  swinging  the  door  unconsciously  with 
her  hand. 

"Don't  say  that  you  love  me  still,"  she  cried ;  and  then, 
letting  her  hand  fall  from  the  door,  added,  imploringly, 
"Oh,  Gavin,  do  you  ?" 


CHAPTER  XXVni. 

THE   MEETING   FOR    RAIN. 

Meanwhile  the  Auld  Lichts  were  in  church,  waiting  for 
their  minister,  and  it  was  a  full  meeting,  because  nearly 
every  well  in  Thrums  had  been  scooped  dry  by  anxious 
palms.  Yet  not  all  were  there  to  ask  God's  rain  for  them- 
selves. Old  Charles  Yuill  was  in  his  pew,  after  dreaming 
thrice  that  he  would  break  up  with  the  drought;  and  Bell 
Christison  had  come,  though  her  man  lay  dead  at  home, 
and  she  thought  it  could  matter  no  more  to  her  how  things 
went  in  the  world. 

You,  who  do  not  love  that  little  congregation,  would  have 
said  that  they  were  waiting  placidly.  But  probably  so  simple 
a  woman  as  Meggy  Rattray  could  have  deceived  you  into  be- 
lieving that  because  her  eyes  were  downcast  she  did  not 
notice  who  put  the  three-penny-bit  in  the  plate.  A  few  men 
were  unaware  that  the  bell  was  working  overtime,  most  of 
them  farmers  with  their  eyes  on  the  windows,  but  all  the 
women  at  least  were  wondering.  They  knew  better,  however, 
than  to  bring  their  thoughts  to  their  faces,  and  none  sought 
to  catch  another's  eye.  The  menfolk  looked  heavily  at  their 
hats  in  the  seats  in  front.  Even  when  Hendry  Munn,  in- 
stead of  marching  to  the  pulpit  with  the  big  Bible  in  his 
hands,  came  as  far  as  the  plate  and  signed  to  Peter  Tosh. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  157 

elder,  that  he  was  wanted  in  the  vestry,  you  could  not  have 
guessed  how  every  woman  there  except  Bell  Christison  wished 
she  was  Peter  Tosh.  Peter  was  so  taken  aback  that  he 
merely  gaped  at  Hendry,  until  suddenly  he  knew  that  his 
five  daughters  were  furious  with  him,  when  he  dived  for 
his  hat  and  staggered  to  the  vestry  with  his  mouth  open. 
His  boots  cheeped  all  the  way,  but  no  one  looked  up. 

In  the  vestry  Hendry  Munn  was  now  holding  counsel  with 
three  elders,  of  whom  the  chief  was  Lang  Tammas. 

"The  laddie  I  sent  to  the  manse,"  Hendry  said,  "canna 
be  back  this  five  minutes,  and  the  question  is  how  we're 
to  fill  up  that  time.  I'll  ring  no  langer,  for  the  bell  has 
been  in  a  passion  ever  since  a  quarter  past  eight.  It's  as 
sweer  to  clang  past  the  quarter  as  a  horse  to  gallop  by  its 
stable." 

"You  could  gang  to  your  box  and  gie  out  a  psalm,  Tam- 
mas," suggested  John  Spens. 

"And  would  a  psalm  sung  wi'  sic  an  object,"  retorted  the 
precentor,  "mount  higher,  think  you,  than  a  bairn's  kite?  I'll 
insult  the  Almighty  to  screen  no  minister." 

"You're  screening  him  better  by  standing  whaur  you  are," 
said  the  imperturbable  Hendry;  "for  as  lang  as  you  dinna 
show  your  face  they'll  think  it  may  be  you  that's  missing 
instead  o'  Mr.  Dishart." 

Indeed,  Gavin's  appearance  in  church  without  the  precentor 
would  have  been  as  surprising  as  Tammas's  without  the 
minister.  As  certainly  as  the  shutting  of  a  money-box  is 
followed  by  the  turning  of  the  key,  did  the  precentor  walk 
stiffly  from  the  vestry  to  his  box  a  toll  of  the  bell  in  front 
of  the  minister.  Tammas's  halfpenny  rang  in  the  plate  as 
Gavin  passed  T'nowhead's  pew,  and  Gavin's  sixpence  with 
the  snapping-to  of  the  precentor's  door.  The  two  men 
might  have  been  connected  by  a  string  that  tightened  at  ten 
yards. 

"The  congregation  ken  me  ower  weel,"  Tammas  said,  "to 
believe  I  would  keep  the  Lord  waiting." 

"And  they  are  as  sure  o'  Mr.  Dishart,"  rejoined  Spens, 
with  spirit,  though  he  feared  the  precentor  on  Sabbaths  and 
at  prayer-meetings.     "You're  a  hard  man." 

"I  speak  the  blunt  truth,"  Whamond  answered. 

"Ay,"  said  Spens,  "and  to  tak  credit  for  that  may  be 
like  blawing  that  you're  ower  honest  to  wear  claethes." 

Hendry,  who  had  gone  to  the  door,  returned  now  with 
the  information  that   Mr.   Dishart  had  left  the  manse  two 


158  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


hours  ago  to  pay  visits,  meaning  to  come  to  the  prayer-meet- 
ing before  he  returned  home. 

"There's  a  quirk  in  this,  Hendry,"  said  Tosh.  "Was  it 
Mistress  Dishart  the  laddie  saw?" 

"No,"  Hendry  rephed.  "It  was  Jean.  She  canna  get  to 
the  meeting  because  the  mistress  is  nervous  in  the  manse 
by  herself;  and  Jean  didna  like  to  tell  her  that  he's  missing, 
for  fear  o'  alarming  her.     What  are  we  to  do  now?'' 

"He's  an  unfaithful  shepherd,"  cried  the  precentor,  while 
Hendry  again  went  out.    "I  see  it  written  on  the  walls." 

"I  dinna,"  said  Spens,  doggedly. 

"Because,"  retorted  Tammas,  "having  eyes  you  see  not." 

"Tammas,  I  aye  thocht  you  was  fond  o'  Mr.  Dishart. 

"H  my  right  eye  were  to  offend  me,"  answered  the  pre- 
centor, "I  would  pluck  it  out.  I  suppose  you  think,  and 
baith  o'  you  farmers,  too,  that  there's  no  necessity  for  pray- 
ing for  rain  the  nicht  ?  You'll  be  content,  will  ye,  if  Mr. 
Dishart  just  drops  in  to  the  kirk  some  day,  accidental-like, 
and  ofifers  up  a  bit  prayer  ?" 

"As  for  the  rain,"  Spens  said,  triumphantly,  "I  wouldna 
wonder  though  it's  here  afore  the  minister.  You  canna  deny, 
Peter  Tosh,  that  there's  been  a  smell  o'  rain  in  the  air  this 
twa  hours  back." 

"John,"  Peter  said,  agitatedly,  "dinna  speak  so  confidently. 
I've  kent  it,"  he  whispered,  "since  the  day  turned;  but  it 
wants  to  tak  us  by  surprise,  lad,  and  so  I'm  no  letting  on." 

"See  that  you  dinna  make  an  idol  o'  the  rain,"  thundered 
Whamond.  "Your  thochts  is  no  wi'  Him,  but  wi'  the  clouds ; 
and  whaur  your  thochts  are,  there  will  your  prayers  stick 
also." 

"If  you  saw  my  lambs,"  Tosh  began;  and  then,  ashamed  of 
himself,  said,  looking  upward,  "He  holds  the  rain  in  the 
hollow  of  His  hand." 

"And  He's  closing  His  neive  ticht  on't  again,"  said  the 
precentor,  solemnly.     "Hearken  to  the  wind  rising !" 

"God  help  me!"  cried  Tosh,  wringing  his  hands.  "Is  it 
fair,  think  you,"  he  said,  passionately  addressing  the  sky, 
"to  show  your  wrath  wi'  Mr.  Dishart  by  ruining  my 
neeps?" 

"You  were  richt,  Tammas  Whamond,"  Spens  said,  grow- 
ing hard  as  he  listened  to  the  wind,  "the  sanctuary  o'  the  Lord 
has  been  profaned  this  nicht  by  him  wha  should  be  the  chief 
pillar  o'  the  building." 

They  were  lowering  brows  that  greeted  Hendry  when  he 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  159 

returned  to  say  that  Mr.  Dishart  had  been  seen  last  on  the 
hill  with  the  Glen  Quharity  dominie. 

"Some  thinks,"  said  the  kirk  officer,  "that  he's  awa  hunting 
for  Rob  Dow." 

"Nothing'U  excuse  him,"  replied  Spens,  "short  o'  his  having 
fallen  over  the  quarry  " 

Hendry's  was  usually  a  blank  face,  but  it  must  have  looked 
troubled  now,  for  Tosh  was  about  to  say,  "Hendry,  you're 
keeping  something  back,"  when  the  precentor  said  it  before 
him. 

"Wi'  that  story  o'  Mr.  Dishart's  murder,  no  many  hours 
auld  yet,"  the  kirk  officer  replied,  evasively,  "we  should  be 
wary  o'  trusting  gossip." 

"What  hae  you  heard?" 

"It's  through  the  town,"  Hendry  answered,  "that  a  woman 
was  wi'  the  dominie." 

"A  woman !"  cried  Tosh.  "The  woman  there's  been  sic 
talk  about  in  connection  wi'  the  minister?  Whaur  are  they 
now  ?" 

"It's  no  kent,  but — the  dominie  was  seen  goin'  hame 
by  himsel'." 

"Leaving  the  minister  and  her  thegither !"  cried  the  three 
men  at  once. 

"Hendry  Munn,r  Tammas  said,  sternly,  "there's  mair 
about  this;  wha  is  the  woman?" 

"They  are  liars,"  Hendry  answered,  and  shut  his  mouth 
tight. 

"Gie  her  a  name,  I  say,"  the  precentor  ordered,  "or,  as 
chief  elder  of  this  kirk,  supported  by  mair  than  half  o'  the 
session,  I  command  you  to  lift  your  hat  and  go." 

Hendry  gave  an  appealing  look  to  Tosh  and  Spens,  but 
the  precentor's  solemnity  had  cowed  tliem. 

"They  say,  then,"  he  answered,  sullenly,  "that  it's  the  Egyp- 
tian.   Yes,  and  I  believe  they  ken." 

The  two  farmers  drew  back  from  this  statement  incredu- 
lously; but  Tammas  Whamond  jumped  at  the  kirk  officer's 
throat,  and  some  who  were  in  the  church  that  night  say 
they  heard  Hendry  scream.  Then  the  precentor's  fingers 
relaxed  their  grip,  and  he  tottered  into  the  middle  of  the 
room. 

"Hendry,"  he  pleaded,  holding  out  his  arms  pathetically, 
"tak  back  these  words.  Oh,  man,  have  pity,  and  tak  them 
back !" 

But  Hendry  would  not,  and  then  Lang  Tammas's  naouth 


160  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


1 


worked  convulsively,  and  he  sobbed,  crying,  "Nobody  kent 
it,  but  mair  than  mortal  son,  O  God,  I  did  love  the  lad!" 

So  seldom  in  a  lifetime  had  any  one  seen  into  this  man's 
heart  that  Spens  said,  amazed: 

"Tammas,  Tammas  Whamond,  it's  no  like  you  to  break 
down." 

The  rusty  door  of  Whamond's  heart  swung  to. 

"Who  broke  down?"  he  asked,  fiercely.  "Let  no  mem- 
ber of  this  session  dare  to  break  down  till  his  work  be 
done." 

"What  work?"  Tosh  said,  uneasily.  "We  canna  inter- 
fere." 

"I  would  rather  resign,"  Spens  said,  but  shook  when 
Whamond  hurled  these  words  at  him : 

"  "And  Jesus  said  unto  him.  No  man,  having  put  his 
hand  to  the  plough  and  looking  back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom 
of  God.'  " 

"It  mayna  be  true,"  Hendry  said,  eagerly.  f; 

"We'll  soon  see." 

"He  would  gie  her  up,"  said  Tosh. 

"Peter  Tosh,"  answered  Whamond,  sternly,  "I  call  upon 
you  to  dismiss  the  congregation." 

"Should  we  no  rather  baud  the  meeting  oursel's?" 

"We  have  other  work  afore  us,"  replied  the  precentor. 

"But  what  can  I  say?"  Tosh  asked,  nervously.  "Should 
I  offer  up  a  prayer?" 

"I  warn  you  all,"  broke  in  Hendry,  "that  though  the  con- 
gregation is  sitting  there  quietly,  they'll  be  tigers  for  the 
meaning  o'  this  as  soon  as  they're  in  the  street." 

"Let  no  ontruth  be  telled  them,"  said  the  precentor.  "Peter 
Tosh,  do  your  duty.     John  Spens,  remain  wi'  me." 

The  church  emptied  silently,  but  a  buzz  of  excitement  arose 
outside.  Alany  persons  tried  to  enter  the  vestry,  but  were 
ordered  away,  and  when  Tosh  joined  his  fellow  elders  the 
people  were  collecting  in  animated  groups  in  the  square,  or 
scattering  through  the  wynds  for  news. 

"And  now,"  said  the  precentor,  "I  call  upon  the  three 
o'  you  to  come  wi'  me.     Hendry  Munn,  you  gang  first." 

"I  maun  bide  ahint,"  Hendry  said,  with  a  sudden  fear, 
"to  lock  up  the  kirk." 

"I'll  lock  up  the  kirk,"  Whamond  answered,  harshly. 

"You  maun  gie  me  the  keys,  though,"  entreated  the  kirk 
officer. 

'T'51  take  care  o'  the  keys,"  said  Whamond. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  161 

"I  maun  hae  them,"  Hendry  said,  "to  open  the  kirk  on 
Sabbath." 

The  precentor  locked  the  doors,  and  buttoned  up  the  keys 
in  his  trousers  pockets. 

"Wha  kens,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  of  steel,  ''that  the  kirk'll 
be  open  next  Sabbath?" 

"Hae  some  mercy  on  him,  Tammas,"  Spens  implored. 
"He's  no  twa-and-twenty." 

"Wha  kens,"  continued  the  precentor,  "but  that  the  next 
Vime  this  kirk  is  opened  will  be  to  preach  it  toom?" 

"What  road  do  we  tak?" 

"The  road  to  the  hill,  whaur  he  was  seen  last." 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

VARIOUS    BODIES    CONVERGING    ON    THE    HILL. 

It  would  be  coming  on  for  a  quarter  past  nine,  and  a 
misty  night,  when  I  reached  the  schoolhouse,  and  I  was  so 
weary  of  mind  and  body  that  I  sat  down  without  taking  off 
my  bonnet.  I  had  left  the  door  open,  and  I  remember  list- 
lessly watching  the  wind  making  a  target  of  my  candle,  but 
never  taking  a  sufficiently  big  breath  to  do  more  than  frighten 
it.     From  this  lethargy  I  was  roused  by  the  sound  of  wheels. 

In  the  daytime  our  glen  road  leads  to  many  parts,  but 
in  the  night  only  to  the  doctor's.  Then  the  gallop  of  a 
horse  makes  farmers  start  up  in  bed  and  cry,  "Who's  ill  ?" 
I  went  to  my  door  and  listened  to  the  trap  coming  swiftly 
down  the  lonely  glen,  but  I  could  not  see  it,  for  there  was 
a  trailing  scarf  of  mist  between  the  schoolhouse  and  the  road. 
Presently  I  heard  the  swish  of  the  wheels  in  water,  and  so 
learned  that  they  were  crossing  the  ford  to  come  to  me.  I 
had  been  unstrung  by  the  events  of  the  evening,  and  fear 
at  once  pressed  thick  upon  me  that  this  might  be  a  sequel  to 
them,  as  indeed  it  was. 

While  still  out  of  sight  the  trap  stopped,  and  I  heard 
some  one  jump  from  it.  Then  came  this  conversation,  as 
distinct  as  though  it  had  been  spoken  into  my  ear: 

"Can  you  see  the  schoolhouse  now,  McKenzie?" 

"I  am  groping  for  it,  Rintoul.  The  mist  seems  to  have 
made  off  with  the  path." 

"Where  are  you,  McKenzie?    I  have  lost  sight  of  vou." 


162  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  3 

It  was  but  a  ribbon  of  mist,  and  as  these  words  were 
spoken  McKenzie  broke  through  it.  I  saw  him,  though  to 
him  I  was  only  a  stone  at  my  door. 

"I  have  found  the  house,  Rintoul,"  he  shouted,  "and  there 
is  a  hght  in  it,  so  that  the  fellow  has  doubtless  returned." 

"Then  wait  a  moment  for  me." 

"Stay  where  you  are,  Rintoul,  I  entreat  you,  and  leave 
him  to  me.    He  may  recognise  you." 

"No,  no,  McKenzie,  I  am  sure  he  never  saw  me  before.  I 
insist  on  accompanying  you." 

"Your  excitement,  Rintoul,  will  betray  you.  Let  me  go 
alone.  I  can  question  him  without  rousing  his  suspicions. 
Remember,  she  is  only  a  gypsy  to  him." 

"He  will  learn  nothing  from  me.     I  am  quite  calm  now." 

"Rintoul,  I  warn  you  your  manner  will  betray  you,  and 
to-morrow  it  will  be  roared  through  the  country-side  that 
your  bride  ran  away  from  the  Spittal  in  a  gypsy  dress,  and 
had  to  be  brought  back  by  force." 

The  altercation  may  have  lasted  another  minute,  but  the 
suddenness  with  which  I  learned  Babbie's  secret  had  left  my 
ears  incapable  of  learning  more.  I  daresay  the  two  men 
started  when  they  found  me  at  my  door,  but  they  did  not 
remember,  as  few  do  remember  who  have  the  noisy  day 
to  forget  it  in,  how  far  the  voice  carries  in  the  night. 

They  came  as  suddenly  on  me  as  I  on  them,  for  though 
they  had  given  unintentional  notice  of  their  approach,  I  had 
lost  sight  of  the  speakers  in  their  amazing  words.  Only  a 
moment  did  young  McKenzie's  anxiety  to  be  spokesman  give 
me  to  regard  Lord  Rintoul.  I  saw  that  he  was  a  thin  man 
and  tall,  straight  in  the  figure,  but  his  head  began  to  sink 
into  his  shoulders  and  not  very  steady  on  them.  His  teeth 
had  grip  of  his  underlip,  as  if  this  was  a  method  of  con- 
trolling his  agitation,  and  he  was  opening  and  shutting  his 
hands  restlessly.  He  had  a  dog  with  him  which  I  was  to 
meet  again. 

"Well  met,  Mr.  Ogilvy,"  said  ^McKenzie,  who  knew  me 
slightly,  having  once  acted  as  judge  at  a  cock-fight  in  the 
schoolhouse.  "We  were  afraid  we  should  have  to  roust 
you." 

"You  will  step  inside?"  I  asked,  awkwardly,  and  while  I 
spoke  I  was  wondering  how  long  it  would  be  before  the  earl's 
excitement  broke  out. 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  McKenzie  answered,  hurriedly. 
"My  friend  and  I   (this  is  Mr.  McClure)   have  been  caught 


THE  LITTLE  INIINISTER  163 

in  the  mist  without  a  lamp,  and  we  thought  you  could  per- 
haps favour  us  with  one." 

"Unfortunately  I  have  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  said,  and 
the  state  of  mind  I  was  in  is  shown  by  my  answering 
seriously. 

"Then  we  must  wish  you  a  good  night  and  manage  as  best 
we  can,"  he  said ;  and  then  before  he  could  touch,  with 
affected  indifference,  on  the  real  object  of  their  visit,  the 
alarmed  earl  said,  angrily,  "McKenzie,  no  more  of  this." 

"No  more  of  this  delay,  do  you  mean,  McClure?"  asked 
McKenzie,  and  then,  turning  to  me,  said,  "By  the  way,  Mr. 
Ogilvy,  I  think  this  is  our  second  meeting  to-night.  I  met 
you  on  the  road  a  few  hours  ago  with  your  wife.  Or  was  it 
your  daughter  ?" 

"It  was  neither,  Mr.  McKenzie,"  I  answered,  with  the 
calmness  of  one  not  yet  recovered  from  a  shock.  "It  was  a 
gypsy  girl." 

"Where  is  she  now?"  cried  Rintoul,  feverisMy;  but  Mc- 
Kenzie, speaking  loudly  at  the  same  time,  tried  to  drown 
his  interference  as  one  obliterates  writing  by  writing  over  it. 

"A  strange  companion  for  a  schoolmaster,"  he  said. 
"What  became  of  her?" 

"I  left  her  near  Caddam  Wood,"  I  replied,  "but  she  is 
probably  not  there  now." 

"Ah,  they  are  strange  creatures,  these  gypsies !"  he  said, 
casting  a  warning  look  at  the  earl.  "Now  I  wonder  where 
she  had  been  bound  for." 

"There  is  a  gypsy  encampment  on  the  hill,"  I  answered, 
though  I  cannot  say  why. 

"She  is  there !"  exclaimed  Rintoul,  and  was  done  with  me. 

"I  daresay,"  AIcKenzie  said,  indifferently.  "However,  it 
is  nothing  to  us.     Good  night,  sir." 

"Good  night,  Mr.  McKenzie,"  I  said.  "Good  night.  Lord 
Rintoul." 

I  had  addressed  him  by  his  real  name.  Never  a  turnip 
fell  from  a  bumping,  laden  cart,  and  the  driver  more  un- 
conscious of  it,  than  I  that  I  had  dropped  that  word.  I  re- 
entered the  house,  but  had  not  reached  my  chair  when 
McKenzie's  hand  fell  roughly  on  me,  and  I  was  swung 
round. 

"Mr.  Ogilvy,"  he  said,  the  more  savagely  I  doubt  not  be- 
cause his  passions  had  been  chained  so  long,  "you  know  more 
than  you  would  have  us  think.  Beware,  sir,  of  recognising 
that  gypsy  should  you  ever  see  her  again  in  different  attiro. 


164  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

I  advise  you  to  have  forgotten  this  night  when  you  waken 
to-morrow  morning." 

With  a  menacing  gesture  he  left  me,  and  I  sank  into  a 
chair,  glad  to  lose  sight  of  the  glowering  eyes  with  which 
he  had  pinned  me  to  the  wall. 

The  earl  and  McKenzie  would  be  some  distance  still  from 
the  hill  when  the  office-bearers  had  scoured  it  in  vain  for  their 
minister.  The  gypsies,  now  dancing  round  their  fires  to 
music  that,  on  ordinary  occasions,  Lang  Tammas  would 
have  stopped  by  using  his  fists  to  the  glory,  of  God,  had 
seen  no  minister,  they  said,  and  disbelieved  in  the  existence 
of  the  mysterious  Egyptian. 

"Liars  they  are  to  trade,"  Spens  declared  to  his  com- 
panions, "but  now  and  again  they  speak  truth,  like  a  stand- 
ing clock,  and  I'm  beginning  to  think  the  minister's  lassie 
was   invented   in   the   square." 

"Not  so,"  said  the  precentor,  "for  we  saw  her  oursel's 
a  short  year  syne,  and  Hendry  Munn  there  allows  there's 
townsfolk  that  hae  passed  her  in  the  glen  mair  recently." 

"I  only  allowed,"  Hendry  said,  cautiously,  "that  some  sic 
talk  had  shot  up  sudden-like  in  the  town.  Them  that  pretends 
they  saw  her  says  that  she  joukt  quick  out  o'  sicht." 

"Ay,  and  there's  another  quirk  in  that,"  responded  the 
suspicious  precentor. 

"I'se  uphaud  the  minister's  sitting  in  the  manse  in  his 
slippers  by  this  time,"  Hendry  said. 

"I'm  willing,"  replied  Whamond,  "to  gang  back  and  speir, 
or  to  search  Caddam  next ;  but  let  the  matter  drop  I  winna, 
though  I  ken  you're  a'  awid  to  be  hame  now." 

"And  naturally,"  retorted  Tosh,  "for  the  nicht's  coming  on 
as  black  as  pick,  and  by  the  time  we're  at  Caddam  we'll  no 
even  see  the  trees." 

Towards  Caddam,  nevertheless,  they  advanced,  hearing 
nothing  but  a  distant  wind  and  the  whish  of  their  legs  in  the 
broom. 

"Whaur's  John  Spens  ?"  Hendry  said,  suddenly. 

They  turned  back  and  found  Spens  rooted  to  the  ground, 
as  a  boy  becomes  motionless  when  he  thinks  he  is  within 
arm's  reach  of  a  nest  and  the  bird  sitting  on  the  eggs. 

"What  do  you  see,  man  ?"  Hendry  whispered. 

"As  sure  as  death,"  answered  Spens,  awestruck,  "I  felt 
a  drap  o'  rain." 

"It's  no  rain  we're  here  to  look  for,"  said  the  precentor. 

"Peter  Tosh,"  cried  Spens,  "it  was  a  drap !     Oh,  Peter ! 


THE  LITTLE  ]\nNISTER  165 

how  are  you  looking  at  me  so  queer,  Peter,  when  you  should 
be  thanking  the  Lord  for  the  promise  that's  in  that  drap  ?" 

"Come  away,"  Whamond  said,  impatiently ;  but  Spens  an- 
swered, "No  till  I've  offered  up  a  prayer  for  the  promise 
that's  in  that  drap.  Peter  Tosh,  you've  forgotten  to  take  off 
your  bonnet." 

"Think  twice,  John  Spens,"  gasped  Tosh,  "afore  you  pray 
for  rain  this  nicht." 

The  others  thought  him  crazy,  but  he  went  on,  with  a 
catch  in  his  voice : 

"I  felt  a  drap  o'  rain  mysel',  just  afore  it  came  on  dark 
so  hurried,  and  my  first  impulse  was  to  wish  that  I  could 
carry  that  drao  about  wi'  me  and  look  at  it.  But,  John 
Spens,  when  I  looked  up  I  saw  sic  a  change  running  ower 
the  sky  that  I  thocht  hell  had  ta'en  the  place  o'  heaven,  and 
that  there  was  waterspouts  gathering  therein  for  the  drown- 
ing o'  the  world." 

"There's  no  water  in  hell,"  the  precentor  said,  grimly. 

"Genesis  nine,"  said  Spens,  "verses  eight  to  seventeen. 
Ay,  but  Peter,  you've  startled  me,  and  I'm  thinking  we 
should  be  stepping  hame.     Is  that  a  licht?" 

"It'll  be  in  Nanny  Webster's,"  Hendry  said,  after  they  had 
all  regarded  the  light. 

"I  never  heard  that  Nanny  needed  a  candle  to  licht  her 
to  her  bed,"  the  precentor  muttered. 

"She  was  awa  to  meet  Sanders  the  day  as  he  came  out 
o'  the  Tilliedrum  gaol,"  Spens  remembered,  "and  I  daresay 
the  licht  means  they're  hame  again." 

"It's  well  kent — "  began  Hendry,  and  would  have  recalled 
his  words. 

^Hendry  Munn,"  cried  the  precentor,  "if  you  hae  minded 
on3i:hing  that  may  help  us,  out  wi't." 

"I  was  just  minding,"  the  kirk  officer  answered,  reluctantly, 
"that  Nanny  allows  it's  IMr.  Dishart  that  has  been  keeping 
her  frae  the  poorhouse.  You  canna  censure  him  for  that, 
Tammas." 

"Can  I  no?"  retorted  Whamond.  "What  business  has  he 
to  befriend  a  woman  that  belongs  to  another  denomination? 
I'll  see  to  the  bottom  o'  that  this  nicht.  Lads,  follow  me  to 
Nannj^'s,  and  dinna  be  surprised  if  we  find  baith  the  minister 
and  the  Egyptian  there." 

They  had  not  advanced  many  yards  when  Spens  jumped 
to  the  side,  crying,  "Be  wary,  that's  no  the  wind;  it's  a  ma- 
chine !" 


166  THE  LITTLE  IMINISTER 

Immediately  the  doctor's  dog-cart  was  close  to  them,  with 
Rob  Dow  for  its  only  occupant.  He  was  driving  slowly,  or 
Whamond  could  not  have  escaped  the  horse's  hoofs. 

"Is  that  you,  Rob  Dow?"  said  the  precentor,  sourly.  "I 
tell  you,  you'll  be  gaoled  for  stealing  the  doctor's  machine." 

"The  Hielandman  wasna  muckle  hurt,  Rob,"  Hendry  said, 
more  good-naturedly. 

"I  ken  that,"  replied  Rob,  scowling  at  the  four  of  them. 
"What  are  3-ou  doing  here  on  sic  a  nicht?" 

"Do  you  see  anything  strange  in  the  nicht,  Rob?"  Tosh 
asked,  apprehensively. 

"It's  setting  to  rain,"  Dow  replied.  "I  dinna  see  it,  but  I 
feel  it.'' 

"Ay,"  said  Tosh,  eagerly,  "but  will  it  be  a  saft,  cowdie 
sweet  ding-on  ?" 

"Let  the  heavens  open  if  they  will,"  interposed  Spens, 
recklessly.  "I  would  swop  the  drought  for  rain,  though  it 
comes  down  in  a  sheet  as  in  the  year  twelve." 

"And  like  a  sheet  it'll  come,"  replied  Dow,  "and  the 
deil'U  blaw  it  about  wi'  his  biggest  bellowses." 

Tosh  shivered,  but  Whamond  shook  him  roughly,  say- 
ing: 

"Keep  your  oaths  to  yoursel',  Rob  Dow,  and  tell  me,  hae 
you  seen  Mr,  Dishart?" 

"I  hinna,"  Rob  answered,  curtly,  preparing  to  drive  on. 

"Nor  the  lassie  they  call  the  Egj^ptian?" 

Rob  leaped  from  the  dog-cart,  crying,  "What  does  that 
mean  ?" 

"Hands  off,"  said  the  precentor,  retreating  from  him.  "It 
means  that  Mr.  Dishart  neglected  the  prayer-meeting  this 
nicht  to  philander  after  that  heathen  woman." 

"We're  no  sure  o't,  Tammas,"  remonstrated  the  kirk 
officer.  Dow  stood  quite  still.  "I  believe  Rob  kens  it's  true," 
Hendry  added,  sadly,  "or  he  would  hae  flown  at  your  throat, 
Tammas  Whamond,  for  saying  these  words." 

Even  this  did  not  rouse  Dow. 

"Rob  doesna  worship  the  minister  as  he  used  to  do,"  said 
Spens. 

"And  what  for  no?"  cried  the  precentor.  "Rob  Dow,  is  it 
because  you've  found  out  about  this  woman  ?" 

"You're  a  pack  o'  liars,"  roared  Rob,  desperately,  "and 
if  you  say  again  that  ony  wandering  hussy  has  baud  o'  the 
minister,  I'll  let  you  see  whether  I  can  loup  at  throats." 

"You'll  swear  by  the  P>ook,"  asked  Whamond,  relentlessly. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  167 

"that  you've  seen  neither  o'  them  this  nicht,  nor  them  the- 
gither  at  any  time?" 

'"I  so  swear  by  the  Book,"  answered  poor,  loyal  Rob. 
'But  what  makes  you  look  for  Mr.  Dishart  here?"  he  de- 
manded, with  an  uneasy  look  at  the  light  in  the  mud  house. 

"Go  hame,"  replied  the  precentor,  ''and  deliver  up  the  ma- 
chine you  stole,  and  leave  this  session  to  do  its  duty.  John, 
Ave  maun  fathom  the  meaning  o'  that  licht." 

Dow  started,  and  was  probably  at  that  moment  within  ati 
ace  of  felling  Whamond. 

"I'll  come  wi'  you,"  he  said,  hunting  in  his  mind  for  a 
better  way  of  helping  Gavin. 

They  were  at  Nanny's  garden,  but  in  the  darkness  Wha- 
mond could  not  find  the  gate.  Rob  climbed  the  paling,  and 
was  at  once  lost  sight  of.  Then  they  saw  his  head  obscure 
the  window.  They  did  not,  however,  hear  the  groan  that 
startled  Babbie. 

"There's  nobody  there,"  he  said,  coming  back,  "but  Nanny 
and  Sanders.     You'll  mind  Sanders  was  to  be  freed  the  day." 

"I'll  go  in  and  see  Sanders,"  said  Hendry,  but  the  pre- 
centor pulled  him  back,  saying,  "You'll  do  nothing  o'  the 
kind,  Hendry  Munn;  you'll  come  awa'  wi'  me  now  to  the 
manse." 

"It's  mair  than  me  and  Peter'll  do,  then,"  said  Spens,  who 
had  been  consulting  with  the  other  farmer.  "We're  gaun 
as  straucht  hame  as  the  darkness'U  let  us." 

With  few  words  the  session  parted,  Spens  and  Tosh  setting 
off  for  their  farms,  and  Hendry  accompanying  the  precentor. 
No  one  will  ever  know  where  Dow  went.  I  can  fancy  him, 
however,  returning  to  the  wood,  and  there  drawing  rein.  I 
can  fancy  his  mind  made  up  to  watch  the  mud  house  until 
Giavin  and  the  gypsy  separated,  and  then  pounce  upon  her. 
I  daresay  his  whole  plot  could  be  condensed  into  a  sentence, 
"If  she's  got  rid  o'  this  nicht,  we  may  cheat  the  session  yet." 
But  this  is  mere  surmise.  All  I  know  is  that  he  waited  near 
Nanny's  house,  and  by  and  by  heard  another  trap  coming  up 
Windyghoul.  That  was  just  before  the  ten  o'clock  bell  be- 
gan to  ring. 


168  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

LEADING    SWIFTLY    TO    THE    APPALLING    MARRIAGE. 

The  little  minister  bowed  his  head  in  assent  when  Babbie's 
cry,  '"Oh,  Gavin,  do  you?"  leapt  in  front  of  her  unselfish  wish 
that  he  should  care  for  her  no  more. 

"But  that  matters  very  little  now,"  he  said. 

She  was  his  to  do  with  as  he  willed ;  and,  perhaps,  the 
joy  of  knowing  herself  loved  still  begot  a  wild  hope  that  he 
would  refuse  to  give  her  up.  If  so,  these  words  laid  it  low, 
but  even  the  sentence  they  passed  upon  her  could  not  kill 
the  self-respect  that  would  be  hers  henceforth.  "That  matters 
very  little  now,"  the  man  said,  but  to  the  woman  it  seemed 
to  matter  more  than  anything  else  in  the  world. 

"We  must  try  to  make  amends  now,"  he  said,  gravely, 
"for  the  wrong  we  have  done." 

"The  wrong  I  have  done,"  she  said,  correcting  him.  "You 
will  make  it  harder  for  me  if  you  blame  yourself.  How 
vile  I  was  in  those  days !" 

"Those  days,"  she  called  them,  they  seemed  so  far  away. 

"Do  not  cry.  Babbie,"  Gavin  replied,  gently.  "He  knew 
what  you  were,  and  why,  and  He  pities  you.  'For  His 
anger  endureth  but  a  moment:  in  His  favour  is  life:  weep- 
ing may  endure  for  a  night,  but  joy  cometh  in  the  morn- 
ing.' " 

"Not  to  me." 

"Yes,  to  you,"  he  answered.  "Babbie,  you  will  return  to 
the  Spittal  now,  and  tell  Lord  Rintoul  everything." 

"H  you  wish  it." 

"Not  because  I  wish  it,  but  because  it  is  right.  He  must 
be  told  that  you  do  not  love  him." 

"I  never  pretended  to  him  that  I  did,"  Babbie  said,  looking 
up.  "Oh/'  she  added,  with  emphasis,  "he  knows  that.  He 
thinks  me  incapable  of  caring  for  any  one." 

"And  that  is  why  he  must  be  told  of  me,"  Gavin  re- 
plied. "You  are  no  longer  the  woman  you  were.  Babbie, 
and  you  know  it,  and  x  know  it,  but  he  does  not  know  it. 
He  shall  know  it  before  he  decides  whether  he  is  to  marry 
you." 

Babbie  looked  at  Gavin,  and  wondered  he  did  not  see  that 
this  decision  lay  with  him. 

"Nevertheless,"  she  said,  "the  wedding  will  take  place  to- 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  169 


morrow;  if  it  did  not,  Lord  Rintoul  would  be  the  scorn  of 
his   friends." 

"If  it  does,"  the  minister  answered,  "he  will  be  the  scorn 
of  himself.     Babbie,  there  is  a  chance." 

"There  is  no  chance,"  she  told  him.  "I  shall  be  back 
at  the  Spittal  without  any  one's  knowing  of  my  absence, 
and  when  I  begin  to  tell  him  of  you.  he  will  tremble,  lest 
it  means  my  refusal  to  marry  him ;  when  he  knows  it  does 
not,  he  will  wonder  only  why  I  told  him  anything." 

"He  will  ask  you  to  take  time — " 

"No,  he  will  ask  me  to  put  on  my  wedding  dress.  You 
must  not  think  anything  else  possible." 

"So  be  it,  then,"  Gavin  said,  firmly. 

"Yes,  it  will  be  better  so,"  Babbie  answered,  and  then, 
seeing  him  misunderstand  her  meaning,  exclaimed,  reproach- 
fully, "I  was  not  thinking  of  myself.  In  the  time  to  come, 
whatever  be  my  lot,  I  shall  have  the  one  consolation,  that  this 
is  best  for  you.     Think  of  your  mottier." 

"She  will  love  you,"  Gavin  said,  "when  I  tell  her  of  you." 

"Yes,"  said  Babbie,  wringing  her  hands;  "she  will  almost 
love  me,  but  for  what?  For  not  marrying  you.  That  is  the 
'Dnly  reason  any  one  in  Thrums  will  have  for  wishing  me 
well." 

"No  others,"  Gavin  answered,  "will  ever  know  why  I  re- 
mained unmarried." 

"Will  you  never  marry?"  Babbie  asked,  exultingly.  "Ah!" 
she  cried,  ashamed,  "but  you  must." 

"Never." 

Babbie  believed  his  "Never,"  and,  doubtless,  thought  no 
worse  of  him  for  it;  but  she  saw  no  way  of  comforting 
him  save  by  disparagement  of  herself. 

"You  must  think  of  your  congregation,"  she  said.  "A 
minister  with  a  gypsy  wife — " 

"Would  have  knocked  them  about  with  a  flail,"  Gavin  inter- 
posed, showing  his  teeth  at  the  thought  of  the  precentor, 
"until  they  did  her  reverence." 

She  shook  her  head,  and  told  him  of  her  meeting  with 
Micah  Dow.  It  silenced  him;  not,  however,  on  account  of 
its  pathos,  as  she  thought,  but  because  it  interpreted  the 
riddle  of  Rob's  behaviour. 

"Nevertheless,"  he  said,  ultimately,  "my  duty  is  not  to 
do  what  is  right  in  my  people's  eyes,  but  what  seems  right 
in  my  own." 

Babbie  had  not  heard  him. 


170  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

— ^■■"^^^^^^^^■^— ■— ^— ^^^^^^— — '^— — ^— — ^^*^^'^^^^^^^^^^^^— ^^^^—^^^ 

"I  saw  a  face  at  the  window  just  now,"  she  whispered, 
drawing  closer  to  him. 

"There  was  no  face  there;  the  very  thought  of  Rob  Dow 
raises  him  before  you,"  Gavin  answered,  reassuringly,  though 
Rob  was  nearer  at  that  moment  than  either  of  them  thought. 

"I  must  go  away  at  once,"  she  said,  still  with  her  eyes  on 
the  window.  "No,  no,  you  shall  not  come  or  stay  with  me; 
it  is  you  who  are  in  danger." 

"Do  not  fear  for  me." 

"I  must,  if  you  will  not.  Before  you  came  in,  did  I  not 
hear  you  speak  of  a  meeting  you  had  to  attend  to-night?" 

"My  pray — "  His  teeth  met  on  the  word;  so  abruptly  did 
it  conjure  up  the  forgotten  prayer-meeting  that  before  the 
shock  could  reach  his  mind  he  stood  motionless,  listening  for 
the  bell.  For  one  instant  all  that  had  taken  place  since  he 
last  heard  it  might  have  happened  between  two  of  its  tinkles ; 
Babbie  passed  from  before  him  like  a  figure  in  a  panorama 
and  he  saw,  instead,  a  congregation  in  their  pews. 

"What  do  you  see?"  Babbie  cried,  in  alarm,  for  he  seemed 
to  be  gazing  at  the  window. 

"Only  you,"  he  replied,  himself  again ;  "I  am  coming  with 
you." 

"You  must  let  me  go  alone,"  she  entreated;  "if  not  for 
your  own  safety" — but  it  was  only  him  she  considered — ^"then 
for  the  sake  of  Lord  Rintoul.  Were  you  and  I  to  be  seen 
together  now,  his  name  and  mine  might  suffer." 

It  was  an  argument  the  minister  could  not  answer  save 
by  putting  his  hands  over  his  face ;  his  distress  made  Babbie 
strong;  she  moved  to  the  door,  trying  to  smile. 

"Go,  Babbie!"  Gavin  said,  controlling  his  voice,  though 
it  had  been  a  smile  more  pitiful  than  her  tears.  "God  has 
you  in  His  keeping;  it  is  not  His  will  to  give  me  this  to 
bear  for  you." 

They  were  now  in  the  garden. 

"Do  not  think  of  me  as  unhappy,"  she  said;  "it  will  be 
happiness  to  me  to  try  to  be  all  you  would  have  me  be." 

He  might  have  kissed  her,  and  perhaps  she  thought  so. 

"I  am — I  am  going  now,  dear,"  she  said,  and  came  back 
a  step  because  he  did  no.  answer;  then  she  went  on,  and  was 
out  of  his  sight  at  three  yards'  distance.  Neither  of  them 
heard  the  approaching  dog-cart. 

"You  see,  I  am  bearing  it  quite  cheerfully,"  she  said.  "I 
shall  have  everything  a  woman  loves;  do  not  grieve  for  me 
so  much." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  171 

Gavin  dared  not  speak  nor  move.  Never  had  he  found  Hfe 
so  hard;  but  he  was  fighting  with  the  ignoble  in  himself,  and 
winning.  She  opened  the  gate,  and  it  might  have  been  a 
signal  to  the  dog-cart  to  stop.  They  both  heard  a  dog  bark- 
ing, and  then  the  voice  of  Lord  Rintoul : 

"That  is  a  light  in  the  window.  Jump  down,  McKenzie, 
and  inquire."  , 

Gavin  took  one  step  nearer  Babbie  and  stopped.  He  did 
not  see  how  all  her  courage  went  from  her,  so  that  her 
knees  yielded,  and  she  held  out  her  arms  to  him,  but  he  heard 
a  great  sob  and  then  his  name. 

"Gavin,  I  am  afraid." 

Gavin  understood  now,  and  I  say  he  would  have  been  no 
man  to  leave  her  after  that ;  only  a  moment  v/as  allowed  him, 
and  it  was  their  last  chance  on  earth.  He  took  it.  His 
arm  went  round  his  beloved,  and  he  drew  her  away  from 
Nanny's. 

McKenzie  found  both  house  and  garden  empty.  "And 
yet,"  he  said,  "I  swear  some  one  passed  the  window  as 
we   sighted   it." 

"Waste  no  more  time,"  cried  the  impatient  earl.  "We 
must  be  very  near  the  hill  now.  You  will  have  to  lead  the 
horse,  McKenzie,  in  this  darkness ;  the  dog  may  find  the 
way  through  the  broom  for  us."         , 

"The  dog  has  run  on,"  McKenzie  replied,  now  in  an  evil 
temper.  "Who  knows,  it  may  be  with  her  now  ?  So  we  must 
feel  our  way  cautiously;  there  is  no  call  for  capsizing  the 
trap  in  our  haste."  But  there  was  call  for  haste  if  they  were 
to  reach  the  gypsy  encampment  before  Gavin  and  Babbie 
were  made  man  and  wife  over  the  tongs. 

The  Spittal  dog-cart  rocked  as  it  dragged  its  way  through 
the  broom.  Rob  Dow  followed.  The  ten  o'clock  bell  began 
to  ring. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

WHILE   THE    TEN    o'CLOCK    BELL    WAS    RINGING. 

"No,  no.  Davit,  Mr.  Dishart  hadna  felt  the  blow  the  piper 
gave  him  till  he  ascended  the  pulpit  to  conduct  the  prayer- 
meeting  for  rain,  and  then  he  fainted  awa.  Tammas  Wha- 
mond  and  Peter  Tosh  carried  him  to  the  session-house.  Ay, 
an  awful  scene." 


172  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

— i^™^^— — ^— — ^^— ^^i^^"^*^— — — — ^^— —■— ^"^»^™'™— ^^"i^"^— »"^— ^ 

"How  did  the  minister  no  come  to  the  meeting?  I  wonder 
how  you  could  expect  it,  Snecky,  and  his  mother  ta'en  so 
suddenly  ill;  he's  at  her  bedside,  but  the  doctor  has  little 
hope." 

"This  is  what  has  occurred,  Tailor :  Mr.  Dishart  never  got 
the  length  of  the  pulpit.  He  fell  in  a  swound  on  the  vestry 
floor.  Wh^it  caused  it?  Oh,  nothing  but  the  heat.  Thrums 
is  so  dry  that  one  spark  would  set  it  in  a  blaze." 

"I  canna  get  at  the  richts  o'  what  keeped  him  frae  the 
meeting,  Femie,  but  it  had  something  to  do  wi'  an  Egyptian 
on  the  hill.  Very  like  he  had  been  trying  to  stop  the  gypsy 
marriage  there.  I  gaed  to  the  manse  to  speir  at  Jean  what 
was  wrang,  but  I'm  thinking  I  telled  her  mair  than  she  could 
tell  me." 

"Man,  man,  Andrew,  the  wite  o't  lies  wi'  Peter  Tosh.  He 
thocht  we  was  to  hae  sic  a  terrible  rain  that  he  implored  the 
minister  no  to  pray  for  it,  and  so  angry  was  Mr.  Dishart 
that  he  ordered  the  whole  session  out  o'  the  kirk.  I  saw 
them  in  Couthie's  close,  and  michty  dour  they  looked." 

''Yes,  as  sure  as  death,  Tammas  Whamond  locked  the  kirk 
door  in  Mr.  Dishart's  face." 

"I'm  a'  shaking !  And  small  wonder,  Marget,  when  I've 
heard  this  minute  that  Mr.  Dishart's  been  struck  by  lichtning 
while  looking  for  Rob  Dow.  He's  no  killed,  but,  woe's  me ! 
They  say  he'll  never  preach  again." 

"Nothing  o'  the  kind.  It  was  Rob  that  the  lichtning  struck 
dead  in  the  doctor's  niachine.  The  horse  wasna  touched ;  it 
came  tearing  down  the  Roods  wi'  the  corpse  sitting  in  the 
machine  like  a  living  man." 

"What  are  you  listening  to,  woman?  Is  it  to  a  dog  bark- 
ing?   I've  heard  it  this  while,  but  it's  far  awa." 

In  the  manse  kitchen 

"Jean,  did  you  not  hear  me  ring?    I  want  you  to —    Why 

are  you  staring  out  at  the  window,  Jean  ?" 

"I — I  was  just  hearkening  to  the  ten  o'clock  bell,  ma'am." 
"I  never  saw  you  doing  nothing  before !     Put  the  heater 

in  the  fire,  Jean.     I  want  to  iron  the  minister's  neck-cloths. 

The  prayer-meeting  is  long  in  coming  out,  is  it  not  ?" 
"The — the  drouth,  ma'am,  has  been  so  cruel  hard." 
"And,  to  my  shame,   I   am  so  comfortable  that  I  almost 

forgot  how  others  are  suffering.     But  my  son  never  forgets, 

Jean.     You  are  not  crying,  are  you?" 


THE  LITTLE  IVIINISTER  173 

"No,  ma'am." 

"Bring  the  iron  to  the  parlour,  then.  And  if  the  minis — 
Why  did  you  start,  Jean?     I  only  heard  a  dog  barking." 

"I  thocht,  ma'am — at  first  I  thocht  it  was  Mr.  Dishart 
opening  the  door.  Ay,  it's  just  a  dog;  some  gypsy  dog 
on  the  hill,  I'm  thinking,  for  sound  would  carry  far  the 
nicht." 

■'Even  you,  Jean,  are  nervous  at  nights,  I  see,  if  there 
is  no  man  in  the  house.  We  shall  hear  no  more  distant  dogs 
barking,  I  warrant,  when  the  minister  comes  hoine." 

"When  he  comes  home,  ma'am." 

On  the  middle  of  a  hill — a  man  and  a  woman 

"Courage,  beloved;  we  are  nearly  there." 

"But,  Gavin,  I  cannot  see  the  encampment." 

"The  night  is  too  dark." 

"But  the  gypsy  fires?" 

"They  are  in  the  Toad's-hole." 

"Listen  to  that  dog  barking." 

"There  are  several  dogs  at  the  encampment.  Babbie." 

"There  is  one  behind  us.     See,  there  it  is!" 

"I  have  driven  it  away,  dear.    You  are  trembling." 

"What  we  are  doing  frightens  me,  Gavin.  It  is  at  your 
heels  again !" 

"It  seems  to  know  you." 

"Oh,  Gavin,  it  is  Lord  Rintoul's  collie.  Snap.  It  will 
bite  you." 

"No,  I  have  driven  it  back  again.  Probably  the  earl  is 
following  us." 

"Gavin,  I  cannot  go  on  with  this." 

"Quicker,  Babbie." 

"Leave  me,  dear,  and  save  yourself." 

"Lean  on  me,  Babbie." 

"Oh,  Gavin,  is  there  no  way  but  this?" 

"No  sure  way." 

"T.ven  though  we  are  married  to-night — " 

"We  shall  be  married  in  five  minutes,  and  then,  whatever 
befall,  he  cannot  have  you." 

"But  after?" 

"I  will  take  you  straight  to  the  manse,  to  my  mother." 

"Were  it  not  for  that  dog,  I  should  think  we  were  alone 
on  the  hill." 

"But  we  are  not.    See,  there  are  the  gypsy  fires." 


174.  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


On  the  zvcst  side  of  the  hill — two  figures 

"Tammas,  Tammas  Whamond,  I've  lost  you.  Should  we 
gang  to  the  manse  down  the  fields  ?" 

"Wheesht,   Hendry!" 

"What  are  you  listening  for?" 

"I  heard  a  dog  barking." 

"Only  a  gypsy  dog,  Tammas,  barking  at  the  coming  storm." 

"The  gypsy  dogs  are  all  tied  up,  and  this  one's  atween 
us  and  the  Toad's-hole.     What  was  that  ?" 

"It  was  nothing  but  the  rubbing  of  the  branches  in  the 
cemetery  on  ane  another.  It's  said,  trees  mak'  that  fear- 
some sound  when  they're  terrified." 

"It  was  a  dog  barking  at  somebody  that's  stoning  it.  I 
ken  that  sound,   Hendry  Munn." 

"May  I  die  the  death,  Tammas  Whamond,  if  a  great  drap 
o'  rain  didna  strike  me  the  now,  and  I  swear  it  was  warm. 
I'm  for  running  hame." 

"I'm  for  seeing  who  drove  awa  that  dog.  Come  back  wi' 
me,  Hendry." 

"I  winna.  There's  no  a  soul  on  the  hill  but  you  and 
me  and  thae  dafiing  and  drinking  gypsies.  How  do  you  no 
answer  me,  Tammas?  Hie,  Tammas  Whamond,  whaur  are 
you?    He's  gone!     Ay,  then  I'll  mak'  tracks  hame." 

In  the  broom — o  dog-cart 

"Do  )'ou  see  nothing  yet,  McKenzie?" 

"Scarce  the  broom  at  my  knees,  Rintoul.  There  is  not  a 
light  on  the  hill." 

"McKenzie,  can  that  schoolmaster  have  deceived  us?" 

"It  is  probable." 

"Urge  on  the  horse,  however.  There  is  a  road  through 
the  broom,  I  know.     Have  we  stuck  again?" 

"Rintoul,  she  is  not  here.  I  promised  to  help  you  to  bring 
her  back  to  the  Spittal  ])efore  this  escapade  became  known, 
but  we  have  failed  to  find  her.  If  she  is  to  be  saved,  it  must 
be  by  herself.  I  daresay  she  has  returned  already.  Let  me 
turn  the  horse's  head.     There  is  a  storm  brewing." 

"I  will  search  this  gypsy  encampment  first,  if  it  is  on  the 
hill.  Hark !  that  was  a  dog's  bark.  Yes,  it  is  Snap ;  but  he 
would  not  bark  at  nothing.  Why  do  you  look  behind  you  so 
often,  McKenzie?" 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  175 

''For  some  time,  Rintoul,  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  we  are 
being  followed.     Listen !" 

"I  hear  nothing.  At  last,  McKenzie,  at  last,  we  are  out  of 
the  broom." 

"And  as  I  live,  Rintoul,  I  see  the  gypsy  lights !" 

It  might  have  been  a  lantern  that  was  flashed  across  the 
hill.  Then  all  that  part  of  the  world  went  suddenly  on 
fire.  Everything  was  horribly  distinct  in  that  white  light. 
The  firs  of  Caddam  were  so  near  that  it  seemed  to  have 
arrested  them  in  a  silent  march  upon  the  hill.  The  grass 
would  not  hide  a  pebble.  The  ground  was  scored  with  shad- 
ows of  men  and  things.  Twice  the  light  flickered  and  re- 
covered itself.  A  red  serpent  shot  across  it,  and  then  again 
black  night  fell. 

The  hill  had  been  illumined  thus  for  nearly  half  a  minute. 
During  that  time  not  even  a  dog  stirred.  The  shadows  of 
human  beings  lay  on  the  ground  as  motionless  as  logs.  What 
had  been  revealed  seemed  less  a  gypsy  marriage  than  a 
picture.  Or  was  it  that  during  the  ceremony  every  person 
on  the  hill  had  been  turned  into  stone?  The  gypsy  king,  with 
his  arm  upraised,  had  not  had  time  to  let  it  fall.  The  men 
and  women  behind  him  had  their  mouths  open,  as  if  struck 
when  on  the  point  of  calling  out.  Lord  Rintoul  had  risen  in 
the  dog-cart  and  was  leaning  forward.  One  of  McKenzie's 
feet  was  on  the  shaft.  The  man  crouching  in  the  dog-cart's 
wake  had  flung  up  his  hands  to  protect  his  face.  The  pre- 
centor, his  neck  outstretched,  had  a  hand  on  each  knee.  All 
eyes  were  fixed,  as  in  the  death  glare,  on  Gavin  and  Babbie, 
who  stood  before  the  king,  their  hands  clasped  over  the  tongs. 
Fear  was  petrified  on  the  woman's  face,  determination  on  the 
man's. 

They  were  all  released  by  the  crack  of  the  thunder,  but 
for  another  moment  none  could  have  swaggered. 

"That  was  Lord  Rintoul  in  the  dog-cart,"  Babbie  whispered, 
drawing  in  her  breath. 

"Yes,  dear,"  Gavin  answered,  resolutely,  "and  now  is  the 
time  for  me  to  have  my  first  and  last  talk  with  him.  Remain 
here.  Babbie.     Do  not  move  till  I  come  back." 

"But,  Gavin,  he  has  seen.     I  fear  him  still." 

"He  cannot  touch  you  now.  Babbie.    You  are  my  wife." 

In  the  vivid  light  Gavin  had  thought  the  dog-cart  much 
nearer  than  it  was.  He  called  Lord  Rintoul's  name,  but  got 
no  answer.    There  were  shouts  behind,  gypsies  running  from 


176  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

the  coming  rain,  dogs  whining,  but  silence  in  front.  The 
minister  moved  on  some  paces.  Away  to  the  left  he  heard 
voices : 

"Who  was  the  man,  IMcKenzie?" 

"My  lord,  I  have  lost  sight  of  j^ou.  This  is  not  the  way 
to  the  camp." 

"Tell  me,  McKenzie,  that  you  did  not  see  what  I  saw." 

"Rintoul,  I  beseech  you  to  turn  back.     We  are  too  late." 

"We  are  not  too  late." 

Gavin  broke  through  the  darkness  between  them  and  him, 
but  they  were  gone.  He  called  to  them,  and  stopped  to  listen 
to  their  feet. 

"Is  that  you,  Gavin?"  Babbie  asked  just  then. 

For  reply,  the  man  who  had  crept  up  to  her  clapped  his 
hand  upon  her  mouth.  Only  the  beginning  of  a  scream 
escaped  from  her.  A  strong  arm  drove  her  quickly  south- 
ward. 

Gavin  heard  her  cry,  and  ran  back  to  the  encampment. 
Babbie  was  gone.  None  of  the  gypsies  had  seen  her  since 
the  darkness  came  back.  He  rushed  hither  and  thither  with  a 
torch  that  only  showed  his  distracted  face  to  others.  He 
flung  up  his  arms  in  appeal  for  another  moment  of  light ;  then 
he  heard  Babbie  scream  again,  and  this  time  it  was  from  a 
distance.  He  dashed  after  her;  he  heard  a  trap  speeding 
down  the  greensward  through  the  broom. 

Lord  Rintoul  had  kidnapped  Babbie.  Gavin  had  no  other 
thought  as  he  ran  after  the  dog-cart  from  which  the  cry  had 
come.  The  earl's  dog  followed  him,  snapping  at  his  heel.» 
The  rain  began. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

THE   GREAT   RAIN. 

Gavin  passed  on  through  Windyghoul,  thinking  in  his 
frenzy  that  he  still  heard  the  trap.  In  a  rain  that  came  down 
like  iron  rods  every  other  sound  was  beaten  dead.  He  slipped, 
and  before  he  could  regain  his  feet  the  dog  bit  him.  To 
protect  himself  from  dykes  and  trees  and  other  horrors  of 
the  darkness  he  held  his  arm  before  him,  but  soon  it  was 
driven  to  his  side.  Wet  whips  cut  his  brow  so  that  he  had 
to  protect  it  with  his  hands,  until  it  had  to  bear  the  lash 


THE  LITTLE  ]\nNISTER  177 

again,  for  they  would  not.  Now  he  had  forced  up  his 
knees,  and  would  have  succumbed  but  for  a  dread  of  being 
pinned  to  the  earth.  This  fight  between  the  man  and  the  rain 
went  on  all  night,  and  long  before  it  ended  the  man  was 
past  the  power  of  thinking. 

In  the  ringing  of  the  ten  o'clock  bell  Gavin  had  lived  the 
seventh  part  of  a  man's  natural  life.  Only  action  was  re- 
quired of  him.  That  accomplished,  his  mind  had  begun  to 
work  again,  when  suddenly  the  loss  of  Babbie  stooped  it,  as 
we  may  put  out  a  fire  with  a  great  coal.  The  last  thing 
he  had  reflected  about  was  a  dog-cart  in  motion,  and,  con- 
sequently, this  idea  clung  to  him.  His  church,  his  mother, 
were  lost  knowledge  of,  but  still  he  seemed  to  hear  the  trap 
in  front. 

By  and  by  even  the  vision  of  Babbie  in  the  dog-cart  was 
blotted  out.  If  nothing  had  taken  its  place,  he  would  not 
have  gone  on  probably;  and  had  he  turned  back  objectless, 
his  strength  would  have  succumbed  to  the  rain.  Now  he 
saw  Babbie  and  Rintoul  being  married  by  a  minister  who  was 
himself,  and  there  was  a  fair  company  looking  on,  and  al- 
ways when  he  was  on  the  point  of  shouting  to  himself, 
whom  he  could  see  clearly,  that  this  woman  was  already 
married,  the  rain  obscured  his  words  and  the  light  went  out. 
Presently  the  ceremony  began  again,  always  to  stop  at  the 
same  point.  He  saw  it  in  the  lightning  flash  that  had  startled 
the  hill.  It  gave  him  courage  to  fight  his  way  onward, 
because  he  thought  he  must  be  heard  if  he  could  draw  nearer 
to  the  company. 

A  regiment  of  cavalry  began  to  trouble  him.  He  heard 
it  advancing  from  the  Spittal,  but  was  not  dismayed,  for 
it  was,  as  yet,  far  distant.  The  horsemen  came  thundering 
on,  filling  the  whole  glen  of  Quharity.  Now  he  knew  that 
they  had  been  sent  out  to  ride  him  down.  He  paused  in 
dread,  until  they  had  swept  past  him.  They  came  back  to 
look  for  him,  riding  more  furiously  than  ever,  and  always 
missed  him,  yet  his  fears  of  the  next  time  were  not  lessened. 
They  were  only  the  rain. 

All  through  the  night  the  dog  followed  him.  He  would 
forget  it  for  a  time,  and  then  it  would  be  so  close  that  he 
could  see  it  dimly.  He  never  heard  it  bark,  but  it  snapped  at 
him,  and  a  grin  had  become  the  expression  of  its  face.  He 
stoned  it,  he  even  flung  himself  at  it,  he  addressed  it  in  caress- 
ing tones,  and  always  with  the  result  that  it  disappeared,  to 
come  back  presently. 


178  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

He  found  himself  walking  in  a  lake,  and  now  even  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation  must  have  been  flickering,  for 
he  waded  on,  rejoicing  merely  in  getting  rid  of  the  dog. 
Something  in  the  water  rose,  and  struck  him.  Instead  of 
stupefying  him,  the  blow  brought  him  to  his  senses,  and  he 
struggled  for  his  life.  The  ground  slipped  beneath  his  feet 
many  times,  but  at  last  he  was  out  of  the  water.  That  he 
was  out  in  a  flood  he  did  not  realise;  yet  he  now  acted  like 
one  in  full  possession  of  his  faculties.  When  his  feet  sank 
in  water,  he  drew  back ;  and  many  times  he  sought  shelter 
behind  banks  and  rocks,  first  testing  their  firmness  with  his 
hands.  Once  a  torrent  of  stones,  earth,  and  heather  carried 
him  down  a  hillside,  until  he  struck  against  a  tree.  He 
twined  his  arms  round  it,  and  had  just  done  so  when  it  fell 
with  him.  After  that,  when  he  touched  trees  growing  in 
water,  he  fled  from  them,  thus  probably  saving  himself  from 
death. 

The  daylight  would  not  come.  He  longed  passionately  for 
it.  He  tried  to  remember  what  it  was  like,  and  could  not; 
he  had  been  blind  so  long.  It  was  away  in  front  some- 
where, and  he  was  struggling  to  overtake  it.  He  expected 
to  see  it  from  a  dark  place,  when  he  would  rush  forward 
to  bathe  his  arms  in  it,  and  then  the  elements  that  were 
searching  the  world  for  him  would  see  him,  and  he  would 
perish.  But  death  did  not  seem  too  great  a  penalty  to  pay  for 
light. 

And  at  last  day  did  come  back,  gray  and  drear.  He  saw 
suddenly  once  more.  I  think  he  must  have  been  wandering 
the  glen  with  his  eyes  shut,  as  one  does  shut  them  involun- 
tarily against  the  hidden  dangers  of  black  night.  How  differ- 
ent was  daylight  from  what  he  had  expected !  He  looked, 
and  then  shut  his  dazed  eyes  again,  for  the  darkness  was  less 
horrible  than  the  day.  Had  he  indeed  seen,  or  only  dreamed 
that  he  saw?  Once  more  he  looked  to  see  what  the  world 
was  like;  and  the  sight  that  met  his  eyes  was  so  mournful 
that  he,  who  had  fought  through  the  long  night,  now  sank 
hopeless  and  helpless  among  the  heather.  The  dog  was  not 
far  away,  and  it,  too.  ^ost  heart.  Gavin  held  out  his  hand, 
and  Snap  crept  timidly  towards  him.  He  unloosened  his 
coat,  and  the  dog  nestled  against  him,  cowed  and  shivering, 
hiding  its  head  from  the  day.  Thus  they  lay,  and  the  rain 
beat  upon  them. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  179 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  GLEN    AT  BREAK    OF   DAY. 

My  first  intimation  that  the  burns  were  in  flood  came  from 
Waster  Lunny,  close  on  the  strike  of  ten  o'clock.  This  was 
some  minutes  before  they  had  any  rain  in  Thrums.  I  was 
in  the  schoolhouse,  now  piecing  together  the  puzzle  Lord 
Rintoul  had  left  with  me,  and  anon  starting  upright  as  Mc- 
Kenzie's  hand  seemed  to  tighten  on  my  arm.  Waster  Lunny 
had  been  whistling  to  me  (with  his  fingers  in  his  mouth)  for 
some  time  before  I  heard  him  and  hurried  out.  I  was  sur- 
prised and  pleased,  knowing  no  better,  to  be  met  on  the 
threshold  by  a  whisk  of  rain. 

The  night  was  not  then  so  dark  but  that  when  I  reached 
the  Quharity  I  could  see  the  farmer  take  shape  on  the 
other  side  of  it.  He  wanted  me  to  exult  with  him,  I  thought, 
in  the  end  of  the  drouth,  and  I  shouted  that  I  would  fling 
him  the  stilts. 

"It's  yoursel'  that  wants  them,"  he  answered,  excitedly, 
"if  you're  fleid  to  be  left  alone  in  the  schoolhouse  the  nicht. 
Do  you  hear  me,  dominie?  There  has  been  frichtsome  rain 
among  the  hills,  and  the  Bog  burn  is  coming  down  like  a  sea. 
It  has  carried  awa  the  miller's  brig,  and  the  steading  o' 
Muckle  Pirley  is  standing  three  feet  in  water." 

"You're  dreaming,  man,"  I  roared  back,  but  beside  his 
news  he  held  my  doubts  of  no  account. 

"The  Retery's  in  flood,"  he  went  on,  "and  running  wild 
through  Hazel  Wood;  T'nowdunnie's  tattie  field's  out  o' 
sicht,  and  at  the  Kirkton  they're  fleid  they've  lost  twa  kye." 

"There  has  been  no  rain  here,"  I  stammered,  incredulously. 

"It's  coming  now,"  he  replied.  "And  listen :  the  story's 
out  that  the  Backbone  has  fallen  into  the  loch.  You  had 
better  cross,  dominie,  and  thole  out  the  nicht  wi'  us." 

The  Backbone  was  a  piece  of  mountainside  overhanging 
a  loch  among  the  hills,  and  legend  said  that  it  would  one 
day  fall  forward  and  squirt  all  the  water  into  the  glen. 
Something  of  the  kind  had  happened,  but  I  did  not  believe  it 
then;  with  little  wit  I  pointed  to  the  shallow  Quharity. 

"It  may  come  down  at  any  minute,"  the  farmer  answered, 
"and  syne,  mind  you,  you'll  be  five  miles  frae  Waster  Lunny, 
for  there'll  be  no  crossing  but  by  the  Brig  o'  March.  If 
you  winna  come,  I  maun  awa  back.     I  mauna  bide  langer  on. 


180  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


the  wrang  side  o'  the  Moss  ditch,  though  it  has  been  as  dry 
this  month  back  as  a  rabbit's  roady.  But  if  you — "  His 
voice  changed.  "God's  sake,  man,"  he  cried,  "you're  ower 
iate.     Look  at  that !     Dinna  look — run,  run  !" 

If  I  had  not  run  before  he  bade  me,  I  might  never  have 
run  again  on  earth.  I  had  seen  a  great  shadowy  yellow 
river  come  riding  down  the  Quharity.  I  sprang  from  it  for 
my  life;  and  when  next  I  looked  behind,  it  was  upon  a  turbu- 
lent loch,  the  further  bank  lost  in  darkness.  I  was  about  to 
shout  to  Waster  Lunny,  when  a  monster  rose  in  the  torrent 
between  me  and  the  spot  where  he  had  stood.  It  frightened 
me  to  silence  until  it  fell,  when  I  knew  it  was  but  a  tree 
that  had  been  flung  on  end  by  the  flood.  For  a  time  there 
was  no  answer  to  my  cries,  and  I  thought  the  farmer  had 
been  swept  away.  Then  I  heard  his  whistle,  and  back  I  ran 
recklessly  through  the  thickening  darkness  to  the  schoolhouse. 

The  schoolhouse  stands  too  high  to  fear  any  flood,  but 
there  were  moments  when  I  thought  the  rain  would  master  it. 
Not  only  the  windows  and  the  roof  were  rattling  then,  but 
all  the  walls,  and  I  was  like  one  in  a  great  drum.  When  the 
rain  was  doing  its  utmost,  I  heard  no  other  sound;  but  when 
the  lull  came,  there  was  the  wash  of  a  heavy  river,  or  a 
crack  as  of  artillery  that  told  of  landslips,  or  the  plaintive  cry 
of  the  peesweep  as  it  rose  in  the  air,  trying  to  entice  the 
waters  away  from  its  nest. 

It  was  a  dreary  scene  that  met  my  gaze  at  break  of  day. 
Already  the  Quharity  had  risen  six  feet,  and  in  many  parts 
of  the  glen  it  was  two  hundred  yards  wide.  Waster  Lunny's 
corn  field  looked  like  a  bog  grown  over  with  rushes,  and 
what  had  been  his  turnips  had  become  a  lake  with  small 
islands  in  it.  No  dyke  stood  whole  except  one  that  the 
farmer,  unaided,  had  built  in  a  straight  line  from  the  road 
to  the  top  of  Mount  Bare,  and  my  own,  the  further  end  of 
which  dipped  in  water.  Of  the  plot  of  firs  planted  fifty 
years  earlier  to  help  on  Waster  Lunny's  crops,  only  a  tri- 
angle had  withstood  the  night. 

Even  with  the  aid  ol  my  field-glass  I  could  not  estimate 
the  damage  on  more  distant  farms,  for  the  rain,  though  now 
thin  and  soft,  as  it  continued  for  six  days,  was  still  heavy 
and  of  a  brown  colour.  After  breakfast, — which  was  inter- 
rupted by  my  bantam  cock's  twice  spilling  my  milk, — I  saw 
Waster  Lunny  and  his  son,  Matthew,  running  towards  the 
shepherd's  house  with  ropes  in  their  hands.  The  house,  I 
thought,  must  be  in  the  mist  beyond  and  then  I  sickened 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  181 

knowing  all  at  once  that  it  should  be  on  this  side  of  the 
mist.  When  I  had  nerve  to  look  again,  I  saw,  that  though 
the  roof  had  fallen  in,  the  shepherd  was  astride  one  of  the 
walls,  from  which  he  was  dragged  presently  through  the 
water  by  the  help  of  the  ropes.  I  remember  noticing  that 
he  returned  to  his  house  with  the  rope  still  about  him,  and 
concluded  that  he  had  gone  back  to  save  some  of  his  furni- 
ture. I  was  wrong,  hov/ever.  There  was  too  much  to  be  done 
at  the  farm  to  allow  this,  but  Waster  Lunny  had  consented 
to  Duncan's  forcing  his  way  back  to  the  shieling  to  stop 
the  clock.  To  both  men  it  seemed  horrible  to  let  a  clock  go 
on  ticking  in  a  deserted  house. 

Having  seen  this  rescue  accomplished,  I  was  letting  my 
glass  roam  in  the  opposite  direction,  when  one  of  its  shakes 
brought  into  view  something  on  my  own  side  of  the  river.  I 
looked  at  it  long,  and  saw  it  move  slightly.  Was  it  a  human 
being?  No,  it  was  a  dog.  No,  it  was  a  dog  and  something 
else.  I  hurried  out  to  see  more  clearly,  and  after  a  first  glance 
the  glass  shook  so  in  my  hands  that  I  had  to  rest  it  on  the 
dyke.  For  a  full  minute,  I  daresay,  did  I  look  through  the 
glass  without  blinking,  and  then  I  needed  to  look  no  more. 
That  black  patch  was,  indeed,  Gavin. 

He  lay  quite  near  the  schoolhouse,  but  I  had  to  make  a 
circuit  of  half  a  mile  to  reach  him.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  the 
dog  doing  its  best  to  come  to  me,  and  falling  every  few  steps. 
The  poor  brute  was  discoloured  almost  beyond  recognition; 
and  when  at  last  it  reached  me,  it  lay  down  at  my  feet  and 
licked  them.  I  stepped  over  it  and  ran  on  recklessly  to  Gavin. 
At  first  I  thought  he  was  dead.  If  tears  rolled  down  my 
cheeks,  they  were  not  for  him. 

I  was  no  strong  man,  even  in  those  days,  but  I  carried 
him  to  the  schoolhouse,  the  dog  crawling  after  us.  Gavin 
I  put  upon  my  bed,  and  I  lay  down  beside  him,  holding  him 
close  to  me,  that  some  of  the  heat  of  my  body  might  be  taken 
in  by  his.  When  he  was  able  to  look  at  me,  however,  it  was 
not  with  understanding,  and  in  vain  did  my  anxiety  press  him 
with  questions.  Only  now  and  again  would  some  word  in  my 
speech  strike  upon  his  brain  and  produce  at  least  an  echo. 
To  "Did  you  meet  Lord  Rintoul's  dog-cart?"  he  sat  up,  say- 
ing, quickly: 

"Listen,  the  dog-cart !" 

"Egyptian"  was  not  that  forenoon  among  the  words  he 
knew,  and  I  did  not  think  of  mentioning  "hill."  At  "rain" 
be  shivered;  but  "Soittal"  was  what  told  me  most. 


182  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"He  has  taken  her  back,"  he  replied,  at  once,  from  which 
I  learned  that  Gavin  now  knew  as  much  of  Babbie  as  I  did. 

I  made  him  as  comfortable  as  possible,  and,  despairing  of 
learning  anything  from  him  in  his  present  state,  I  let  him 
sleep.  Then  I  went  out  into  the  rain,  very  anxious,  and 
dreading  what  he  might  have  to  tell  me  when  he  woke.  I 
waded  and  jumped  my  way  as  near  to  the  farm  as  I  dared 
go,  and  Waster  Lunny,  seeing  me,  came  to  the  water's  edge. 
At  this  part  the  breadth  of  the  flood  was  not  forty  yards,  yet 
for  a  time  our  voices  could  no  more  cross  its  roar  than  one 
may  send  a  snowball  through  a  stone  wall.  I  know  not 
whether  the  river  then  quieted  for  a  space,  or  if  it  was  only 
that  the  ears  grow  used  to  dins  as  the  eyes  distinguish  the 
objects  in  a  room  that  is  at  first  black  to  them;  but  after 
a  little  we  were  able  to  shout  our  remarks  across,  much  as 
boys  fling  pebbles,  many  to  fall  into  the  water,  but  one  oc- 
casionally to  reach  the  other  side.  Waster  Lunny  would  have 
talked  of  the  flood,  but  I  had  not  come  here  for  that. 

"How  were  you  home  so  early  from  the  prayer-meeting  last 
night?"  I  bawled. 

"No  meeting  ...  I  came  straucht  hame  .  .  .  but  terribl«» 
stories  .  .  .  Mr.  Dishart,"  was  all  I  caught  after  Waster 
Lunny  had  flung  his  words  across  a  dozen  times. 

I  could  not  decide  whether  it  would  be  wise  to  tell  him 
that  Gavin  was  in  the  schoolhouse,  and  while  I  hesitated,  he 
continued  to  shout : 

"Some  woman  .  .  .  the  session  .  .  .  Lang  Tammas  .  .  . 
God  forbid  .  .  .  maun  back  to  the  farm  .  .  ,  byre  running 
like  a  mill-dam." 

He  signed  to  me  that  he  must  be  off,  but  my  signals  de- 
layed him,  and  after  much  trouble  he  got  my  question,  "Any 
news  about  Lord  Rintoul?"  My  curiosity  about  the  earl 
must  have  surprised  him,  but  he  answered: 

"Marriage  is  to  be  the  day  .   .   .  cannon." 

I  signed  that  I  did  not  grasp  his  meaning. 

"A  cannon  is  to  be  fired  as  soon  as  they're  man  and  wife," 
he  bellowed.     "We'll  hear  it." 

With  that  we  parted.  On  my  way  home,  I  remember,  I 
stepped  on  a  brood  of  drowned  partridge.  I  was  only  out 
half  an  hour,  but  I  had  to  wring  my  clothes  as  if  they  were 
fresh  from  the  tub. 

The  day  wore  on,  and  I  did  not  disturb  the  sleeper.  A 
dozen  times,  I  suppose,  I  had  to  relight  my  fire  of  wet  peat 
and  roots ;  but  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  stare  out  at  the  window, 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  183 

plenty  of  time  to  thiiik.  Probably  Gavin's  life  depended  on 
his  sleeping,  but  that  was  not  what  kept  my  hands  off  him. 
Knowing  so  little  of  what  had  happened  in  Thrums  since  I 
left  it,  I  was  forced  to  guess,  and  my  conclusion  was  that  the 
earl  had  gone  off  with  his  own,  and  that  Gavin  in  a  frenzy 
had  followed  them.  My  wisest  course,  I  thought,  was  to  let 
him  sleep  until  I  heard  the  cannon,  when  his  struggle  for  a 
wife  must  end.  Fifty  times  at  least  did  I  stand  regarding 
him  as  he  slept;  and  if  I  did  not  pity  his  plight  sufficiently, 
you  know  the  reason.  What  were  Margaret's  sufferings  at 
this  moment?  Was  she  wringing  her  hands  for  her  son  lost 
in  the  flood,  her  son  in  disgrace  with  the  congregation?  By 
one  o'clock  no  cannon  had  sounded,  and  my  suspense  had 
become  intolerable.  I  shook  Gavin  awake,  and  even  as  I 
shook  him  demanded  a  knowledge  of  all  that  had  happened 
since  we  parted  at  Nanny's  gate. 

"How  long  ago  is  that?"  he  asked,  with  bewilderment. 

"It  was  last  night,"  I  answered.  "This  morning  I  found 
you  senseless  on  the  hillside,  and  brought  you  here,  to  the 
Glen  Quharity  schoolhouse.     That  dog  was  with  3'ou." 

He  looked  at  the  dog,  but  I  kept  my  eyes  on  him,  and  I 
saw  intelligence  creep  back,  like  a  blush,  into  his  face. 

"Now  I  remember,"  he  said,  shuddering.  "You  have 
proved  yourself  my  friend,  sir,  twice  in  the  four  and  twenty 
hours." 

"Only  once,  I  fear,".  I  replied,  gloomily.  "I  was  no  friend 
when  I  sent  you  to  the  earl's  bride  last  night." 

"You  know  who  she  is?"  he  cried,  clutching  me,  and  find- 
ing it  agony  to  move  his  limbs. 

"I  know  now,"  I  said,  and  had  to  tell  him  how  I  knew 
before  he  would  answer  another  question.  Then  I  became 
listener,  and  you  who  read  know  to  what  alarming  story. 

"And  all  that  time,"  I  cried,  reproachfully,  when  he  had 
done,  "you  gave  your  mother  not  a  thought." 

"Not  a  thought,"  he  answered;  and  I  saw  that  he  pro- 
nounced a  harsher  sentence  on  himself  than  could  have  come 
from  me.  "All  that  time !"  he  repeated,  after  a  moment. 
"It  was  only  a  few  minutes,  while  the  ten  o'clock  bell  was 
ringing." 

"Only  a  few  minutes,"  I  said,  "but  they  changed  the 
channel  of  the  Quharity,  and  perhaps  they  have  done  not  less 
to  you." 

"That  may  be,"  he  answered,  gravely,  "but  it  is  of  the 
present  I  must  think  just  now.    Mr.  Ogilvy,  what  assurance 


184  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

have  I,  while  lying  here  helpless,  that  the  marriage  at  the 
Spittal  is  not  going  on?" 

''None,  I  hope,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  listened  longingly 
for  the  cannon.  But  to  him  I  only  pointed  out  that  no 
woman  need  go  through  a  form  of  marriage  against  her  will. 

"Rintoul  carried  her  off  with  no  possible  purport,"  he 
said,  "but  to  set  my  marriage  at  defiance,  and  she  has  had  a 
conviction  always  that  to  marry  me  would  be  to  ruin  me.  It 
was  only  in  the  shiver  Lord  Rintoul's  voice  in  the  darkness 
sent  through  her  that  she  yielded  to  my  wishes.  If  she 
thought  that  marriage  last  night  could  be  annulled  by  another 
to-day,  she  would  consent  to  the  second,  I  believe,  to  save 
me  from  the  effects  of  the  first.  You  are  incredulous,  sir; 
but  you  do  not  know  of  what  sacrifices  love  is  capable." 

Something  of  that  I  knew,  but  I  did  not  tell  him.  I  had 
seen  from  his  manner  rather  than  his  words  that  he  doubted 
the  validity  of  the  gypsy  marriage,  which  the  king  had  only 
consented  to  celebrate  because  Babbie  was  herself  an  Egyp- 
tian.   The  ceremony  had  been  interrupted  in  the  middle. 

"It  was  no  marriage,"  I  said,  with  a  confidence  I  was  far 
from  feeling. 

"In  the  sight  of  God,"  he  replied,  excitedly,  "we  took  each 
other  for  man  and  wife." 

I  had  to  hold  him  down  in  bed. 

"You  are  too  weak  to  stand,  man,"  I  said,  "and  yet  you 
think  you  could  start   off  this  minute   for  the   Spittal." 

"I  must  go,"  he  cried.  "She  is  my  wife.  That  impious 
marriage  may  have  taken  place  already." 

"Oh,  that  it  had!"  was  my  prayer.  "It  has  not,"  I  said 
to  him.  "A  cannon  is  to  be  fired  immediately  after  the  cere- 
mony, and  all  the  glen  will  hear  it." 

I  spoke  on  the  impulse,  thinking  to  allay  his  desire  to 
be  off;  but  he  said,  "Then  I  may  yet  be  in  time."  Somewhat 
cruelly  I  let  him  rise,  that  he  might  realise  his  weakness. 
Every  bone  in  him  cried  out  at  his  first  step,  and  he  sank 
into  a  chair. 

"You  will  go  to  the  Spittal  for  me?"  he  implored. 

"I  will  not,"  I  told  him.  "You  are  asking  me  to  fling 
away  my  life." 

To  prove  my  words  I  opened  the  door,  and  he  saw  what 
the  flood  was  doing.  Nevertheless,  he  rose  and  tottered  sev- 
eral times  across  the  room,  trying  to  revive  his  strength. 
Though  every  bit  of  him  was  aching,  I  saw  that  he  would 
make  the  attempt. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  185 

"Listen  to  me,"  I  said.  "Lord  Rintoul  can  maintain  with 
some  reason  that  it  was  you  rather  than  he  who  abducted 
Babbie.  Nevertheless,  there  will  not,  I  am  convinced,  be 
any  marriage  at  the  Spittal  to-day.  When  he  carried  her  off 
from  the  Toad's-hole,  he  acted  under  impulses  not  dissimilar 
to  those  that  took  you  to  it.  Then,  I  doubt  not,  he  thought 
possession  was  all  the  law,  but  that  scene  on  the  hill  has  stag- 
gered him  by  this  morning.  Even  though  she  thinks  to  save 
you  by  marrying  him,  he  will  defer  his  wedding  until  he 
learns  the  import  of  yours." 

I  did  not  believe  in  my  own  reasoning,  but  I  would  have 
said  anything  to  detain  him  until  that  cannon  was  fired.  He 
seemed  to  read  my  purpose,  for  he  pushed  my  arguments 
from  him  with  his  hands,  and  continued  to  walk  painfully 
to  and  fro. 

"To  defer  the  wedding,"  he  said,  "would  be  to  tell  all  his 
friends  of  her  gypsy  origin,  and  of  me.  He  will  risk  much 
to  avoid  that." 

"In  any  case,"  I  answered,  "you  must  now  give  some 
thought  to  those  you  have  forgotten,  your  mother  and  your 
church." 

"THat  must  come  afterwards,"  he  said,  firmly.  "My  first 
duty  IS  to  my  wife." 

The  door  swung  to  sharply,  just  then,  and  he  started.  He 
thought  it  was  the  cannon. 

"I  wish  to  God  it  had  been !"  I  cried,  interpreting  his 
thoughts. 

"Why  do  you  wish  me  ill?"  he  asked. 

"Mr.  Dishart,"  I  said,  solemnly,  rising  and  facing  him, 
and  disregarding  his  question,  "if  that  woman  is  to  be  your 
wife,  it  will  be  at  a  cost  you  cannot  estimate  till  you  return 
to  Thrums.  Do  you  think  that  if  your  congregation  knew 
of  this  gypsy  marriage  they  would  have  you  for  their  min- 
ister for  another  day?  Do  you  enjoy  the  prospect  of  taking 
one  who  might  be  an  earl's  wife  into  poverty — ay,  and  dis- 
graceful poverty?  Do  you  know  your  mother  so  little  as 
to  think  she  could  survive  your  shame?  Let  me  warn  you, 
sir,  of  what  I  see.  I  see  another  minister  in  the  Auld  Licht 
kirk,  I  see  you  and  your  wife  stoned  through  our  wynds, 
stoned  from  Thrums,  as  malefactors  have  been  chased  out 
of  it  ere  now;  and  as  certainly  as  I  see  these  things  I  see  a 
hearse  standing  at  the  manse  door,  and  stern  men  denying 
a  son's  right  to  help  to  carry  his  mother's  coffin  to  it.  Go 
vour  way,  sir;  but  first  count  the  cost." 


186  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

His  face  quivered  before  these  blows,  but  all  he  said  was, 
"I  must  dree  my  dreed." 

"God  is  merciful,"  I  went  on,  "and  these  things  need  not 
be.  He  is  more  merciful  to  you,  sir,  than  to  some,  for  the 
storm  that  He  sent  to  save  you  is  ruining  them.  And  yet 
the  farmers  are  to-day  thanking  Him  for  every  pound  of 
wool,  every  blade  of  corn  He  has  left  them,  while  you  turn 
from  Him  because  He  would  save  you,  not  in  your  way,  but 
in  His.  It  was  His  hand  that  stayed  your  marriage.  He 
meant  Babbie  for  the  earl;  and  if  it  is  on  her  part  a  loveless 
match,  she  only  suffers  for  her  own  sins.  Of  that  scene  on 
the  hill  no  one  in  Thrums,  or  in  the  glen,  need  ever  know. 
Rintoul  will  see  to  it  that  the  gypsies  vanish  from  these  parts 
for  ever,  and  you  may  be  sure  the  Spittal  will  soon  be  shut 
up.  He  and  McKenzie  have  as  much  reason  as  yourself  to 
be  silent.  You,  sir,  must  go  back  to  your  congregation,  who 
have  heard  as  yet  only  vague  rumours  that  your  presence  will 
dispel.  Even  your  mother  will  remain  ignorant  of  what  has 
happened.  Your  absence  from  the  prayer-meeting  you  can 
leave  to  me  to  explain." 

He  was  so  silent  that  I  thought  him  mine,  but  his  first 
words  undeceived  me. 

"I  thought  I  had  nowhere  so  keen  a  friend,"  he  said;  "but, 
Mr.  Ogilvy,  it  is  devil's  work  you  are  pleading.  Am  I  to 
return  to  my  people  to  act  a  living  lie  before  them  to 
the  end  of  my  days  ?  Do  you  really  think  that  God 
devastated  a  glen  to  give  me  a  chance  of  becoming  a  villain? 
No,  sir,  I  am  in  His  hands,  and  I  will  do  what  I  think 
right." 

"You  will  be  dishonoured,"  I  said,  "in  the  sight  of  God 
and  man." 

"Not  in  God's  sight,"  he  replied.  "It  was  a  sinless  mar- 
riage, Mr.  Ogilvy,  and  I  do  not  regret  it.  God  ordained  that 
she  and  I  should  love  each  other,  and  He  put  it  into  my  power 
to  save  her  from  that  man.  I  took  her  as  my  wife  before 
Him,  and  in  His  eyes  I  am  her  husband.  Knowing  that,  sir, 
how  could  I  return  to  Thrums  without  her?" 

I  had  no  answer  ready  for  him.  I  knew  that  in  my  grief 
for  Margaret  I  had  been  advocating  an  unworthy  course,  but 
I  would  not  say  so.  I  went  gloomily  to  the  door,  and  there, 
presently,  his  hand  fell  on  my  shoulder, 

"Your  advice  came  too  late,  at  any  rate,"  he  said.  "You 
forget  that  the  precentor  was  on  the  hill  and  saw  every- 
thing." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  187 

It  was  he  who  had  forgotten  to  tell  ine  this,  and  to  me 
it  was  the  most  direful  news  of  all. 

"My  God !"  I  cried.  "He  will  have  gone  to  your  mother 
and  told  her."    And  straightway  I  began  to  lace  my  boots. 

"Where   are   you   going?"   he   asked,   staring   at   me. 

"To  Thrums,"  I  answered,  harshly. 

"You  said  that  to  venture  out  into  the  glen  was  to  court 
death,"  he  reminded  me. 

"What  of  that?"  I  said,  and  hastily  put  on  my  coat. 

"Mr.  Ogilvy,"  he  cried,  "I  will  not  allow  you  to  do  this 
for  me." 

"For  you?"  I  said,  bitterly.     "It  is  not  for  you." 

I  would  have  gone  at  once,  but  he  got  in  front  of  me, 
E.sking,  "Did  you  ever  know  my  mother?" 

"Long  ago,"  I  answered,  shortly,  and  he  said  no  more, 
thinking,  I  suppose,  that  he  knew  all.  He  limped  to  the  door 
with  me,  and  I  had  only  advanced  a  few  steps  when  I  under- 
stood better  than  before  what  were  the  dangers  I  was  to 
venture  into.  Since  I  spoke  to  Waster  Lunny  the  river  had 
risen  several  feet,  and  even  the  hillocks  in  his  turnip  field 
were  now  submerged.  The  mist  was  creeping  down  the  hills. 
But  what  warned  me  most  sharply  that  the  flood  was  not 
satisfied  yet  was  the  top  of  the  schoolhouse  dyke ;  it  was 
lined  with  field-mice.  I  turned  back,  and  Gavin,  mistaking 
my  meaning,  said  I  did  wisely. 

"I  have  not  changed  my  mind,"  I  told  him,  and  then  had 
some  difficulty  in  continuing.  "I  expect,"  I  said,  "to  reach 
Thrums  safely,  even  though  I  should  be  caught  in  the  mist, 
but  I  shall  have  to  go  round  by  the  Kelpie  brig  in  order  to 
get  across  the  river,  and  it  is  possible  that — that  something 
may  befall  me." 

I  have  all  my  life  been  something  of  a  coward,  and  my 
voice  shook  when  I  said  this,  so  that  Gavin  again  entreated 
me  to  remain  at  the  schoolhouse,  saying  that  if  I  did  not  he 
would  accompany  me. 

"And  so  increase  my  danger  tenfold?"  I  pointed  out.  "No, 
no,  Mr.  Dishart,  I  go  alone;  and  if  I  can  do  nothing  with 
the  congregation,  I  can  at  least  send  your  mother  word  that 
you  still  live.  But  if  anything  should  happen  to  me,  I  want 
you—" 

But  I  could  not  say  what  I  had  come  back  to  say.  I  had 
meant  to  ask  him,  in  the  event  of  my  death,  to  take  a  hun- 
dred pounds  which  were  the  savings  of  my  life;  but  now 
I  saw  that  this  might  lead  to  Margaret's  hearing  of  me,  and 


188  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

so  I  stayed  my  words.  It  was  bitter  to  me  this,  and  yet, 
after  all,  a  little  thing  when  put  beside  the  rest. 

"Good-bye,  Mr.  Dishart,"  I  said,  abruptly.  I  then  looked 
at  my  desk,  which  contained  some  trifles  that  were  once  Mar- 
f^aret's.  "Should  anything  happen  to  me,"  I  said,  "I  want 
that  old  desk  to  be  destroyed  unopened." 

"Mr.  Ogilvy,"  he  answered,  gently,  "you  are  venturing  this 
because  you  loved  my  mother.  If  anything  does  befall  you, 
be  assured  that  I  will  tell  her  what  you  attempted  for  her 
sake." 

I  believe  he  thought  it  was  to  make  some  such  request 
that  I  had  turned  back. 

"You  must  tell  her  nothing  about  me,"  I  exclaimed,  in 
consternation.  "Swear  that  my  name  will  never  cross  your 
lips  before  her.  No,  that  is  not  enough.  You  must  forget 
me  utterly  whether  I  live  or  die,  lest  sometime  you  should 
think  of  me  and  she  should  read  your  thoughts.  Swear, 
man !" 

"Must  this  be?"  he  said,  gazing  at  me. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  more  calmly,  "it  must  be.  For  nearli 
a  score  of  years  I  have  been  blotted  out  of  your  mother's 
life,  and  since  she  came  to  Thrums  my  one  care  has  been 
to  keep  my  existence  from  her.  I  have  changed  my  burying- 
ground  even  from  Thrums  to  the  glen  lest  I  should  die  before 
her,  and  she,  seeing  the  hearse  go  by  the  Tenements,  might 
ask.   'Whose   funeral  is  this?'" 

In  my  anxiety  to  warn  him,  I  had  said  too  much.  His 
face  grew  haggard,  and  there  was  fear  to  speak  on  it;  and 
I  saw,  I  knew,  that  some  damnable  suspicion  of  Margaret — 

"She  was  my  wife!"  I  cried,  sharply.  "We  were  mar- 
ried by  the  minister  of  Harvie.     You  are  my  son." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

STORY   r?   THE   DOMINIE. 

When  I  spoke  next,  I  was  back  in  the  schoolhouse,  sitting 
there  with  my  bonnet  on  my  head,  Gavin  looking  at  me.  We 
had   forgotten  the  cannon  at  last. 

In  that  chair  I  had  anticipated  this  scene  more  than  once 
of  late.  I  had  seen  that  a  time  might  come  when  Gavin 
would  have  to  be  told  all,  and   I  had  even  said  the  words 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  189 

aloud,  as  if  he  were  indeed  opposite  me.  So  now  I  was  only 
repeating  the  tale,  and  I  could  tell  it  without  emotion,  because 
it  was  nigh  nineteen  years  old;  and  I  did  not  look  at  Gavin, 
for  I  knew  that  his  manner  of  taking  it  could  bring  no  change 
to  me. 

"Did  you  never  ask  your  mother,"  I  said,  addressing  the 
fire  rather  than  him,  "why  you  were  called  Gavin?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "it  was  because  she  thought  Gavin 
a  prettier  name  than  Adam." 

"No,"  I  said,  slowly,  "it  was  because  Gavin  is  my  name. 
You  were  called  after  your  father.  Do  you  not  remember 
my  taking  you  one  day  to  the  shore  at  Harvie  to  see  the 
fishermen  carried  to  their  boats  upon  their  wives"  backs,  that 
they  might  start  dry  on  their  journey?" 

"No,"  he  had  to  reply.  "I  remember  the  women  carrying 
the  men  through  the  water  to  the  boats,  but  I  thought  it 
was  my   father   who — I   mean — ■" 

"I  know  whom  you  mean,"  I  said.  "That  was  our  last 
day  together,  but  you  were  not  three  years  old.  Yet  you 
remembered  me  when  you  came  to  Thrums.  You  shake  your 
head,  but  it  is  true.  Between  the  diets  of  worship  that 
first  Sabbath  I  was  introduced  to  you,  and  you  must  have 
had  some  shadowy  recollection  of  my  face,  for  you  asked, 
'Surely  I  saw  you  in  church  in  the  forenoon,  Mr.  Ogilvy?' 
I  said,  'Yes,'  but  I  had  not  been  in  the  church  in  the  fore- 
noon.    You  have  forgotten  even  that,  and  yet  I  treasured  it." 

I  could  hear  that  he  was  growing  impatient,  though  so 
far  he  had  been  more  indulgent  than  I  had  any  right  to 
expect. 

"It  can  all  be  put  into  a  sentence,"  I  said,  calmly.  "Mar- 
garet married  Adam  Dishart,  and  afterwards,  believing  her- 
self a  widow,  she  married  me.  You  were  born,  and  then 
Adam  Dishart  came  back." 

That  is  my  whole  story,  and  here  was  I  telling  it  to  my 
son,  and  not  a  tear  between  us.  It  ended  abruptly,  and  I  fell 
to  mending  the  fire. 

"When  I  knew  your  mother  first,"  I  went  on,  after  Gavin 
had  said  some  boyish  things  that  were  of  no  avail  to  me, 
"I  did  not  think  to  end  my  days  as  a  dominie.  I  was  a  stu- 
dent at  Aberdeen,  with  the  ministry  in  my  eye,  and  sometimes 
on  Saturdays  I  walked  forty  miles  to  Harvie  to  go  to  church 
with  her.  She  had  another  lover,  Adam  Dishart,  a  sailor 
turned  fisherman;  and  while  I  lingered  at  corners,  wondering 
if  I  could  dare  to  meet  her  and  her  mother  on  their  way 


190  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

to  church,  he  would  walk  past  with  them.  He  was  accom- 
panied always  by  a  lanky  black  dog,  which  he  had  brought 
from  a  foreign  country.  He  never  signed  for  any  ship  with- 
out first  getting  permission  to  take  it  with  him,  and  in  Harvie 
they  said  it  did  not  know  the  language  of  the  native  dogs. 
I  have  never  known  a  man  and  dog  so  attached  to  each 
other." 

"I  remember  that  black  dog,"  Gavin  said.  "I  have  spoken 
of  it  to  my  mother,  and  she  shuddered,  as  if  it  had  once 
bitten  her." 

"While  Adam  strutted  by  with  them,"  I  continued,  "I  would 
hang  back,  raging  at  his  assurance  or  my  own  timidity;  but 
I  lost  my  next  chance  in  the  same  way.  In  Margaret's 
presence  something  came  over  me,  a  kind  of  dryness  in  the 
throat  that  made  me  dumb.  I  have  known  divinity  students 
stricken  in  the  same  way,  just  as  they  were  giving  out  their 
first  text.     It  is  no  aid  in  getting  a  kirk  or  wooing  a  woman. 

"If  any  one  in  Harvie  recalls  me  now,  it  is  as  a  hobblede- 
hoy who  strode  along  the  cliffs,  shouting  Homer  at  the  sea- 
mews.  With  all  my  learning,  I,  who  gave  Margaret  the 
name  of  Lalage,  understood  women  less  than  any  fisherman 
who  bandied  words  with  them  across  a  boat.  I  remember  a 
Yule  night  when  both  Adam  and  I  were  at  her  mother's  cot- 
tage, and  as  we  were  leaving,  he  had  the  audacity  to  kiss 
Margaret.  She  ran  out  of  the  room,  and  Adam  swaggered 
off,  and,  when  I  recovered  from  my  horror,  I  apologised  for 
what  he  had  done.  I  shall  never  forget  how  her  mother 
looked  at  me,  and  said,  'Ay,  Gavin,  I  see  they  dinna  teach 
everything  at  Aberdeen.'  You  will  not  believe  it,  but  I 
walked  away  doubting  her  meaning.  I  thought  more  of 
scholarship  then  than  I  do  now.  Adam  Dishart  taught  me 
its  proper  place. 

"Well,  tliat  is  the  dull  man  I  was ;  and  yet,  though  Adam 
was  always  saying  and  doing  the  things  I  was  making  up 
my  mind  to  say  and  do,  I  think  Margaret  cared  more  for 
me.  Nevertheless,  there  ,/as  something  about  him  that  all 
women  seemed  to  find  lovable,  a  dash  that  made  them  send 
him  away,  and  then  well-nigh  run  after  him.  At  any  rate, 
I  could  have  got  her  after  her  mother's  death  if  I  had  been 
half  a  man.  But  I  went  back  to  Aberdeen  to  write  a  poem 
about  her,  and  while  I  was  at  it  Adam  married  her." 

I  opened  my  desk,  and  took  from  it  a  yellow  manuscript. 

"Here,"  I  said,  "is  the  poem.    You  see,  I  never  finished  it." 

I  was  fineerine  the  thirur  errimly  when  Gavin's  eve   fell 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  191 

on  something  else  in  tlie  desk.  It  was  an  ungainly  clasp- 
knife,  as  rusty  as  if  it  had  spent  a  winter  beneath  a  hedge. 

"I  seem  to  remember  that  knife,"  he  said. 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  "you  should  remember  it.  Well,  after 
three  months  Adam  tired  of  his  wife." 

I  stopped  again.  This  was  a  story  in  which  only  the 
pauses  were  eloquent. 

"Perhaps  I  have  no  right  to  say  he  tired  of  her.  One 
day,  however,  he  sauntered  away  from  Harvie  whistling,  his 
dog  at  his  heels  as  ever,  and  was  not  seen  again  for  nearly 
six  years.  When  I  heard  of  his  disappearance  I  packed  my 
books  in  that  kist,  and  went  to  Harvie,  where  I  opened  a 
school.  You  see,  every  one  but  Margaret  believed  that  Adam 
had  fallen  over  the  cliffs  and  been  drowned." 

"But  the  dog?"  said  Gavin. 

"We  were  all  sure  that,  if  he  had  fallen  over,  it  had 
jumped  after  him.  The  fisher-folk  said  that  he  could  have 
left  his  shadow  behind  as  easily  as  it.  Yet  Margaret  thought 
for  long  that  he  had  tired  of  Harvie  merely  and  gone  back 
to  sea,  and  not  until  two  years  had  passed  would  she  marry 
me.  We  lived  in  Adam's  house.  It  was  so  near  the  little 
school  that  when  I  opened  the  window  in  summer-time  she 
could  hear  the  drone  of  our  voices.  During  the  weeks  before 
you  were  born  I  kept  that  window  open  all  day  long,  and 
often  I  went  to  it  and  waved  my  hand  to  her. 

"Sometimes,  when  she  was  washing  or  baking,  I  brought 
you  to  the  school.  The  only  quarrel  she  and  I  ever  had  was 
about  my  teaching  you  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  Greek  as  soon 
as  you  could  say  father  and  mother.  It  was  to  be  a  surprise 
for  her  on  your  second  birthday.  On  that  day.  while  she  was 
ironing,  you  took  hold  of  her  gown  to  steady  yourself,  and 
began,  'hdrep  i)tiii^v  6  'a>  Tols  ovpavoh,'  and  to  me,  behind  the 
door,  it  was  music.  But  at  ayia<7drjTu,  of  which  you  made 
two  syllables,  you  cried,  and  Margaret  snotchcd  you  up,  think- 
ing this  was  some  new  ailment.  After  I  had  explained  to 
her  that  it  was  the  Lord's  Prayer  in  Greek,  she  would  let  me 
take  you  to  the  schoolhouse  no  more. 

"Not  much  longer  could  I  have  taken  you  in  any  case,  for 
already  we  are  at  the  day  when  Adam  Dishart  came  back. 
It  was  the  seventh  of  September,  and  all  the  week  most  of 
the  women  in  Harvie  had  been  setting  off  at  dawn  to  the 
harvest  fields  and  straggling  home  at  nights,  merry  and  with 
yellow  corn  in  their  hair.  I  had  sat  on  in  the  schSolhouse 
that  day  after  my  pupils  were  gone.     J.  still  meant  to  be  a 


192  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


minister,  and  I  was  studying  Hebrew,  and  so  absorbed  in 
my  book  that,  as  tlie  daylight  went,  I  followed  it  step  by  step 
as'  far  as  my  window,  and  there  I  read,  without  knowing, 
until  I  chanced  to  look  up,  that  I  had  left  my  desk.  I  have 
not  opened  that  book  since. 

"From  the  window  I  saw  you  on  the  waste  ground  that 
separated  the  school  from  our  home.  You  were  coming  to 
mc  on  your  hands  and  feet,  and  stopping  now  and  again  to 
look  back  at  your  mother,  who  was  at  the  door,  laughing  and 
shaking  her  list  at  you.  I  beckoned  to  you,  and  took  the  book 
back  to  my  desk  to  lock  it  up.  While  my  head  was  inside  the 
desk  I  heard  the  schoolhouse  door  pushed  open,  and  think- 
ing it  was  you  I  smiled,  without  looking  up.  Then  something 
touched  my  hand,  and  I  still  thought  it  was  you ;  but  I  looked 
down,  and  I  saw  Adam  Dishart's  black  dog. 

"I  did  not  move.  It  looked  up  at  me  and  wagged  its  tail. 
Then  it  drew  back, — I  suppose  because  I  had  no  words  for 
it.  I  watched  it  run  half  round  the  room  and  stop  and  look 
at  me  again.     Then  it  slunk  out. 

"All  that  time  one  of  my  hands  had  been  holding  the  desk 
open.  Now  the  lid  fell.  I  put  on  my  bonnet  and  went  to 
the  door.  You  were  only  a  few  yards  away,  with  flowers 
in  your  fist.  Margaret  was  laughing  still.  I  walked  round 
the  school  and  there  was  no  dog  visible.  Margaret  nodded 
to  me,  meaning  that  I  should  bring  you  home.  You  thrust 
the  flowers  into  my  hand,  but  they  fell.     I  stood  there,  dazed. 

"I  think  I  walked  with  you  some  way  across  the  waste 
ground.  Then  I  dropped  your  hand  and  strode  back  to  the 
school.  I  went  down  on  my  knees,  looking  for  marks  of  a 
dog's  paws,  and  I  found  them. 

"When  I  came  out  again  your  mother  was  no  longer  at  our 
door,  and  you  were  crying  because  I  had  left  you.  I  passed 
you  and  walked  straight  to  the  house.  Margaret  was  skin- 
ning rushes  for  wicks.  There  must  have  been  fear  in  my 
face,  for  as  soon  as  she  saw  it  she  ran  to  the  door  to  see  if 
you  were  still  alive.  She  brought  you  in  with  her,  and  so 
had  strength  to  cry,  'What  is  it?     Speak!' 

"  'Come  away,'  I  said,  'come  away,'  and  I  was  drawing  her 
to  the  door,  but  she  pressed  me  into  a  chair.  I  was  up  again 
at  once. 

"  'Margaret,'  I  said,  'ask  no  questions.  Put  on  your  bonnet, 
give  me  the  boy,  and  let  us  away.' 

"I  could  not  take  my  eyes  off  the  door,  and  she  was  walking 
to  it  to  look  out  when  I  barred  the  way  with  my  arm. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  193 

^^■^^^^— — — ^— — ^■^— — — ^ii^-^—— ^^»-— ^1— — i^^^^— i^i—— 

'"What  have  you  seen?'  she  cried;  and  then,  as  I  only 
pointed  to  her  bonnet,  she  turned  to  you,  and  you  said,  'Was 
it  the  black  dog,  father?' 

"Gavin,  then  she  knew;  and  I  stood  helpless  and  watched 
my  wife  grow  old.  In  that  moment  she  lost  the  sprightliness 
I  loved  the  more  because  I  had  none  of  it  myself,  and  the 
bloom  went  from  her  face  never  to  return. 

"  'He  has  come  back,'  she  said. 

"I  told  her  what  I  had  seen,  and  while  I  spoke  she  put  on 
her  bonnet,  and  I  exulted,  thinking — and  then  she  took  off 
her  bonnet,  and  I  knew  she  would  not  go  away  with  me. 

"  'Margaret,'  I  cried,  'I  am  that  bairn's  father." 

"  'Adam's  my  man,'  she  said,  and  at  that  I  gave  her  a  look 
for  which  God  might  have  struck  me  dead.  But  instead  of 
blaming  me  she  put  her  arms  round  my  neck. 

"After  that  we  said  very  little.  We  sat  at  opposite  sides 
of  the  fire,  waiting  for  him,  and  you  played  on  the  floor. 
The  harvesters  trooped  by,  and  there  was  a  fiddle ;  and  when 
it  stopped,  long  stillness,  and  then  a  step.  It  was  not  Adam. 
You  fell  asleep,  and  we  could  hear  nothing  but  the  sea. 
There  was  a  harvest  moon. 

"Once  a  dog  ran  past  the  door,  and  we  both  rose.  Mar- 
garet pressed  her  hands  on  her  breast.  Sometimes  she  looked 
furtively  at  me,  and  I  knew  her  thoughts.  To  me  it  was  only 
misery  that  had  come,  but  to  her  it  was  shame,  so  that  when 
you  woke  and  climbed  into  her  lap  she  shivered  at  your  touch. 
I  could  not  look  at  her  after  that,  for  there  was  a  horror  of 
me  growing  in  her  face. 

"Ten  o'clock  struck,  and  then  again  there  was  no  sound 
but  the  sea  pouring  itself  out  on  the  beach.  It  was  long 
after  this,  when  to  me  there  was  still  no  other  sound,  that 
Margaret  screamed,  and  you  hid  behind  her.  Then  I 
heard  it. 

"  'Gavin,'  Margaret  said  to  me,  'be  a  good  man  all  your 
life.' 

"It  was  louder  now,  and  then  it  stopped.  Above  the  wash 
of  the  sea  we  heard  another  sound, — a  sharp  tap,  tap.  You 
said,  'I  know  what  sound  that  is;  it's  a  man  knocking  the 
ashes  out  of  his  pipe  against  his  boot.' 

"Then  the  dog  pushed  the  door  off  the  latch,  and  Adam 
lurched  in.  He  was  not  drunk,  but  he  brought  the  smell  of 
drink  into  the  room  with  him.  He  was  grinning  like  one 
bringing  rare  news,  and  before  she  could  shrink  back  or  I 
could  strike  him  he  had  Margaret  in  his  arms. 


194  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

^— — — — ~-^— ^■^^— — ^■^■— ^^^— "^■■"~'*"'"— ™—^'^~^"~'^— — ™^^- 

"  'Lord,  lass,'  he  said,  with  many  jovial  oaths,  'to  think 
I'm  back  again !  There,  she's  swounded.  What  folks  be 
women,  to  be  sure.' 

"  'We  thought  you  were  dead,  Adam,'  she  said^  coming  to. 

"'Bless  your  blue  eyes,'  he  answered,  gleefully;  'often  I 
says  to  myself,  "Meggy  will  be  thinking  I'm  with  the  fishes," 
and  then  I  chuckles.' 

"  'Where  have  you  been  all  this  time  ?'  I  demanded,  sternly. 

"  'Gavin,'  he  said,  effusively,  'your  hand.  And  don't  look 
so  feared,  man;  I  bear  no  malice  for  what  you've  done.  I 
heard  all  about  it  at  the  Cross  Anchors.' 

"  'Where  have  you  been  these  five  years  and  a  half  ?'  I 
repeated. 

"  'Where  have  I  no  been,  lad?'  he  replied. 

"  'At  Harvie,'  I  said. 

"  'Right  you  are,'  said  he,  good-naturedly.  'Meggie,  I  had 
no  intention  of  leaving  you  that  day,  though  I  was  yawning 
myself  to  death  in  Harvie;  but  I  sees  a  whaler,  and  I  thinks, 
"That's  a  tidy  boat,  and  I'm  a  tidy  man,  and  if  they'll  take 
me  and  the  dog,  off  we  go."  ' 

"  'You  never  wrote  to  me,'  Margaret  said. 

"  'I  meant  to  send  you  some  scrapes,'  he  answered,  'but  it 
wasna  till  I  changed  ships  that  I  had  the  chance,  and  then  I 
minds,  "Meggy  kens  I'm  no  hand  with  the  pen."  But  I 
swear  I  often  thought  of  you,  lass ;  and  look  you  here,  that's 
better  than  letters,  and  so  is  that,  and  every  penny  of  it  is 
yours.' 

"He  flung  two  bags  of  gold  upon  the  table,  and  their  chink 
brought  you  out  from  behind  your  mother. 

"'Hallo!'  Adam  cried. 

"  'He  is  mine,'  I  said.  'Gavin,  come  here.'  But  Margaret 
held  you  back. 

"  'Here's  a  go,'  Adam  muttered,  and  scratched  his  head. 
Then  he  slapped  his  thigh.  'Gavin,'  he  said,  in  his  friendli- 
est way,  'we'll  toss  for  him.' 

"He  pulled  the  knife  that  is  now  in  my  desk  from  his 
pocket,  spat  on  it,  and  flung  it  up.  'Dry,  the  kid's  ours, 
Meggy,'  he  explained;  'wet,  he  goes  to  Gavin.'  I  clinched 
my  fist  to —  But  what  was  the  use?  He  caught  the  knife, 
and  showed  it  to  me. 

"  'Dry,'  he  saidj  triumphantly ;  'so  he  is  ours,  Meggy. 
Kiddy,  catch  the  knife.  It  is  yours;  and,  mind,  you  have 
changed  dads.  And  now  that  we  have  settled  that,  Gavin, 
there's  my  hand  again.' 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  195 

"I  went  away  and  left  them,  and  I  never  saw  Margaret 
again  until  the  day  you  brought  her  to  Thrums.  But  I  saw 
you  once,  a  few  days  after  Adam  came  back.  I  was  in  the 
schoolhouse,  packing  my  books,  and  you  were  playing  on  the 
waste  ground.  I  asked  you  how  your  mother  was,  and  you 
said,  'She's  fleid  to  come  to  the  door  till  you  gang  awa,  and 
niy  father's  buying  a  boat.' 

"  'I'm  your  father,'  I  said  ;  but  you  answered,  confidently  : 

"  'You're  no  a  living  man.  You're  just  a  man  I  dreamed 
about ;  and  I  promised  my  mother  no  to  dream  about  you 
again.' 

"  'I  am  your  father,'  I  repeated. 

"  'My  father's  awa  buying  a  fishing-boat,'  you  insisted ; 
'and  when  I  speir  at  my  mother  whaur  my  first  father  is,  she 
says  I'm  havering.' 

"  'Gavin  Ogilvy  is  your  name,'  I  said.  'No,'  you  answered, 
'I  have  a  new  name.  My  mother  telled  me  my  name  is  aye 
to  be  Gavin  Dishart  now.  She  telled  me,  too,  to  fling  awa 
this  knife  my  father  gave  me,  and  I've  flung  it  awa  a  lot  o' 
times,  but  I  aye  pick  it  up  again.' 

"  'Give  it  to  me,'  I  said,  with  the  wicked  thoughts  of  a  fool 
in  my  head. 

"That  is  how  your  knife  came  into  my  possession.  I  left 
Harvie  that  night  in  the  carrier's  cart,  but  I  had  not  the  heart 
to  return  to  college.  Accident  brought  me  here,  and  I  thought 
it  a  fitting  place  in  which  to  bury  myself  from  Margaret." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

SECOND    JOURNEY    OF    THE    DOMINIE    TO    THRUMS    DURING    THE 
TWENTY-FOUR    HOURS. 

Here  was  a  nauseous  draught  for  me.  Having  finished  my 
tale,  I  turned  to  Gavin  for  sympathy;  and,  behold,  he  had 
been  listening  for  the  cannon,  instead  of  to  my  final  words. 
So,  like  an  old  woman  at  her  hearth,  we  warm  our  hands  at 
our  sorrows  and  drop  in  fagots,  and  each  thinks  his  own  fire 
a  sun,  in  presence  of  which  all  other  fires  should  go  out. 
I  was  soured  to  see  Gavin  prove  this,  and  then  I  could  have 
laughed  without  mirth,  for  had  not  my  bitterness  proved 
it,  too? 

"And  now,"  I  said,  rising,  "whether  Margaret  is  to  hold 


196  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

up  her  head  henceforth  lies  no  longer  with  me,  but  with 
you." 

It  was  not  to  that  he  replied. 

"You  have  suffered  long,  Mr.  Ogih'^',"  he  said.  "Father," 
he  added,  wringing  my  hand.  I  called  him  son ;  but  it  was 
only  an  exchange  of  musty  words  that  we  had  found  too  late. 
A  father  is  a  poor  estate  to  come  into  at  two  and  twenty. 

"I  should  have  been  told  of  this,"  he  said. 

"Your  mother  did  right,  sir,  I  answered,  slowly,  but  he 
shook  his  head. 

t  "1  think  you  have  misjudged  her,  he  said.  'Doubtless  while 
my  fa — ,  while  Adam  Dishart  lived,  she  could  only  think  of 
you  with  pain;  but  after  his  death — " 

"After  his  death,"  I  said,  quietly,  "I  was  still  so  horrible 
to  her  that  she  left  Harvie  without  letting  a  soul  know 
whither  she  was  bound.     She  dreaded  my  following  her." 

"Stranger  to  me,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "than  even  your 
Story  is  her  being  able  to  keep  it  from  me.  I  believed  no 
thought  ever  crossed  her  mind  that  she  did  not  let  me  share.'"' 

"And  none,  I  am  sure,  ever  did,"  I  answered,  "save  that, 
and  such  thoughts  as  a  woman  has  with  God  only.  It  was 
my  lot  to  bring  disgrace  on  her.  She  thought  it  nothing 
less,  and  she  has  hidden  it  all  these  years  for  your  sake, 
until  now  it  is  not  burdensome.  I  suppose  she  feels  that 
God  has  taken  the  weight  off  her.  Now  you  are  to  put  a 
heavier  burden  in   its  place." 

He  faced  me  boldly,  and  I  admire  him  for  it  now. 

"I  cannot  admit,"  he  said,  "that  I  did  wrong  in  forgetting 
my  mother  for  that  fateful  quarter  of  an  hour.  Babbie  and 
I  loved  each  other,  and  I  was  given  the  opportunity  of  making 
her  mine  or  losing  her  for  ever.  Have  you  forgotten  that  all 
this  tragedy  you  have  told  me  of  only  grew  out  of  your  own 
indecision?     I  took  the  chance  that  you  let  slip  by." 

"I  had  not  forgotten,"  I  replied.  "What  else  made  me 
tell  you  last  night  that  Babbie  was  in  Nanny's  house  ?" 

"But  now  you  are  afraid, — now  when  the  deed  is  done, 
when  for  me  there  cau  be  no  turning  back.  Whatever  be 
the  issue,  I  should  be  a  cur  to  return  to  Thrums  without  my 
wife.  Every  minute  I  feel  my  strength  returning,  and  before 
you  reach  Thrums  I  will  have  set  out  to  the  Spittal." 

There  was  nothing  to  say  after  that.  He  came  with  me  in 
the  rain  as  far  as  the  dyke,  warning  me  against  telling  his 
people  what  was  not  true. 

"My   first  part,"   I   answered,   "will  be  to   send  word  to 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  197 

your  mother  that  you  are  in  safety.  After  that  I  must  see 
Whamond.    Much  depends  on  him." 

"You  will  not  go  to  my  mother?" 

"Not  so  long  as  she  has  a  roof  over  her  head/'  I  said, 
"but  that  may  not  be  for  long." 

So,  I  think,  we  parted, — each  soon  to  forget  the  other  in 
a  woman. 

But  I  had  not  gone  far  when  I  heard  something  that 
stopped  me  as  sharply  as  if  it  had  been  McKenzie's  hand 
once  more  on  my  shoulder.  For  a  second  the  noise  appalled 
me,  and  then,  before  the  echo  began,  I  knew  it  must  be  the 
Spittal  cannon.  My  only  thought  was  one  of  thankful- 
ness. Now  Gavin  must  see  the  wisdom  of  my  reasoning.  I 
would  wait  for  him  until  he  was  able  to  come  with  me 
to  Thrums.  I  turned  back,  and  in  my  haste  I  ran  through 
water  I  had  gone  round  before. 

I  was  too  late.  He  was  gone,  and  into  the  rain  I  shouted 
his  name  in  vain.  That  he  had  started  for  the  Spittal  there 
could  be  no  doubt ;  that  he  would  ever  reach  it  was  less 
certain.  The  earl's  collie  was  still  crouching  by  the  fire, 
and,  thmking  it  might  be  a  guide  to  him,  I  drove  the  brute 
to  the  door,  and  chased  it  in  the  direction  he  probably  had 
taken.  Not  until  it  had  run  from  me  did  I  resume  my  own 
journey.  I  do  not  need  to  be  told  that  you  who  read  would 
follow  Gavin  now  rather  than  me;  but  you  must  bear  with 
the  dominie  for  a  little  while  yet,  as  I  see  no  other  way 
of  making  things  clear. 

In  some  ways  I  was  not  ill  equipped  for  my  attempt.  I 
do  not  know  any  one  of  our  hillsides  as  it  is  known  to  the 
shepherd,  to  whom  every  rabbit-hole  and  glimmer  of  mica 
is  a  landmark ;  but  he,  like  his  flock,  has  only  to  cross  a 
dyke  to  find  himself  in  a  strange  land,  while  I  have  been 
everywhere  in  the  glen. 

In  the  foreground  the  rain  slanted,  transparent  till  it 
reached  the  ground,  where  a  mist  seemed  to  blow  it  along 
as  wind  ruffles  grass.  In  the  distance  all  was  a  driving 
mist.  I  have  been  out  for  perhaps  an  hour  in  rains  as 
wetting,  and  I  have  watched  floods  from  my  window,  but 
never  since  have  I  known  the  fifth  part  of  a  season's  rain- 
fall in  eighteen  hours ;  and  if  there  should  be  the  like  here 
again,  we  shall  be  found  better  prepared  for  it.  Men  have 
been  lost  in  the  glen  in  mists  so  thick  that  they  could  plunge 
their  fingers  out  of  sight  in  it  as  into  a  meal  girnel ;  but 
this  mist  never  came  within  twenty  yards  of  me.     I  was 


198  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

e  — 


surrounded  by  it,  however,  as  if  I  was  in  a  round  tent; 
and  out  of  this  tent  I  could  not  walk,  for  it  advanced  with 
me.  On  the  other  side  of  this  screen  were  horrible  noises, 
at  whose  cause  I  could  only  guess,  save  now  and  again  when 
a  tongue  of  water  w-as  shot  at  my  feet,  or  great  stones  came 
crashing  through  the  canvas  of  mist.  Then  I  ran  wherever 
safety  prompted,  and  thus  tangled  my  bearings  initil  I 
was  like  that  one  in  the  child's  game  who  is  blindfolded 
and  turned  round  three  times  that  he  may  not  know  east 
from  west. 

Once  I  stumbled  over  a  dead  sheep  and  a  living  lamb; 
and  in  a  clump  of  trees  which  puzzled  me — for  they  were 
where  I  thought  no  trees  should  be — a  wood-pigeon  fiew 
to  me,  but  struck  my  breast  with  such  force  that  I  picked 
it  up  dead.  I  saw  no  other  living  thing,  though  half  a 
dozen  times  I  must  have  passed  within  cry  of  farmhouses. 
At  one  time  I  was  in  a  corn  field,  where  I  had  to  lift  my 
hands  to  keep  them  out  of  water,  and  a  dread  filled  me 
that  I  had  wandered  in  a  circle,  and  was  still  on  Waster 
Lunny's  land.  I  plucked  some  corn  and  held  it  to  my  eyes 
to  see  if  it  was  green;  but  it  was  yellow,  and  so  I  knew 
that  at  last  I  was  out  of  the  glen. 

People  up  here  will  complain  if  I  do  not  tell  how  I  found 
the  farmer  of  Green  Brae's  fifty  pounds.  It  is  one  of 
the  best-remembered  incidents  of  the  flood,  and  happened 
shortly  after  I  got  out  of  the  corn  field.  A  house  rose 
suddenly  before  me,  and  I  was  hastening  to  it  when  as 
suddenly  three  of  its  walls  fell.  Before  my  mind  could 
give  a  meaning  to  what  my  e3''es  told  it,  the  water  that 
had  brought  down  the  house  had  lifted  me  off  my  feet 
and  flung  me  among  waves.  That  would  have  been 
the  last  of  the  dominie  had  I  not  struck  against  a  chest, 
then  half  way  on  its  voyage  to  the  sea.  I  think  the  lid 
gave  way  under  me ;  but  that  is  surmise,  for  from  the  time 
the  house  fell  till  I  was  on  the  river  in  a  kist  that  was 
like  to  be  my  coffin,  is  almost  a  blank.  After  what  may 
have  been  but  a  short  journey,  though  I  had  time  in  it 
to  say  my  prayers  twice,  we  stopped,  jammed  among  fallen 
trees;  and  seeing  a  bank  within  reach,  I  tried  to  creep 
up  it.  In  this  there  would  have  been  little  difficulty  had 
not  the  contents  of  the  kist  caught  in  my  feet  and  held 
on  to  them,  like  living  things  afraid  of  being  left  behind. 
I  let  down  my  hands  to  disentangle  my  feet,  but  failed;  and 
then,  grown  desperate,  I  succeeded  in  reaching  firm  ground, 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  199 

dragging  I  knew  not  what  after  me.  It  proved  to  be  a 
pillow-slip.  Green  Brae  still  shudders  when  I  tell  him 
that  my  first  impulse  was  to  leave  the  pillow-slip  unopened. 
However,  I  ripped  it  up,  for  to  undo  the  wet  strings  that 
had  ravelled  round  my  feet  would  have  wearied  even  a 
man  with  a  needle  to  pick  open  the  knots;  and  among  broken 
gimlets,  the  head  of  a  grape,  and  other  things  no  beggar 
would  have  stolen,  I  found  a  tin  canister  containing  fifty 
pounds.  Waster  Lunny  says  that  this  should  have  made  a 
religious  man  of  Green  Brae,  and  it  did  to  this  extent,  that 
he  called  the  fall  of  the  cotter's  house  providential.  Other- 
wise, the  cotter,  at  whose  expense  it  may  be  said  the  money 
was  found,  remains  the  more  religious  man  of  the  two. 

At  last  I  came  to  the  Kelpie's  brig,  and  I  could  have 
wept  in  joy  (and  might  have  been  better  employed),  when, 
like  everything  I  saw  on  that  journey,  it  broke  suddenly 
through  the  mist,  and  seemed  to  run  at  me  like  a  living 
monster.  Next  moment  I  ran  back,  for  as  I  stepped  upon 
the  bridge  I  saw  that  I  had  been  about  to  walk  into  the 
air.  Wliat  was  left  of  the  Kelpie's  brig  ended  in  mid- 
stream. Instead  of  thanking  God  for  the  light  without 
which  I  should  have  gone  abruptly  to  my  death,  I  sat  down, 
miserable  and  hopeless. 

Presently  I  was  up  and  trudging  to  the  Loups  of  Malcolm, 
At   the    Loups   the    river   runs   narrow   and    deep   between 
cliffs,  and  the  spot  is  so  called  because  one  Malcolm  jumped 
across  it  when  pursued  by  wolves.     Next  day  he   returned 
boastfully   to    look    at    his   jump,    and    gazing    at    it   turned 
dizzy    and    fell    into    the    river.      Since    that    time    chains 
have  been  hung  across  the  Loups  to  reduce  the  distance  be- 
tween the   farms  of   Carwhimple   and   Keep-What-You-Can 
.   from  a  mile  to  a  hundred  yards.    You  must  cross  the  chains 
!  on  your  breast.    They  were  suspended  there  by  Rob  Angus, 
I  who  was  also  the  first  to  breast  them. 

I  But  I  never  was  a  Rob  Angus.  When  my  pupils  practise 
I  what  they  call  the  high  jump,  two  small  boys  hold  a  string 
t  aloft,  and  the  bigger  ones  run  at  it  gallantly  until  they 
j  reach  it,  when  they  stop  meekly  and  creep  beneath.  They 
I  will  repeat  this  twenty  times,  and  yet  never,  when  they  start 
i  for  the  string,  seem  to  know  where  their  courage  will  fail. 
I  Nay,  they  will  even  order  the  small  boys  to  hold  the  string 
1  higher.  I  have  smiled  at  this,  but  it  was  the  same  courage 
I  while  the  difficulty  is  far  off  that  took  me  to  the  Loups 
i  At  sight  of  them  I  turned  awav. 


200  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

I  prayed  to  God  for  a  little  of  the  mettle  of  other  men. 
and  He  heard  me,  for  with  my  eyes  shut  I  seemed  to  see 
Margaret  beckoning  from  across  the  abyss  as  if  she  had  need 
of  me.  Then  I  rose  calmly  and  tested  the  chains,  and 
crossed  them  on  my  breast.  Many  have  done  it  with  the 
same  danger,  at  which  they  laugh,  but  without  that  vision 
I   should  have  held  back. 

I  was  now  across  the  river,  and  so  had  left  the  chance 
of  drowning  behind,  but  I  was  farther  from  Thrums  than 
when  I  left  the  schoolhouse,  and  this  country-side  was 
almost  unknown  to  me.  The  mist  had  begun  to  clear,  so 
that  I  no  longer  wandered  into  fields ;  but  though  I  kept 
to  the  roads,  I  could  not  tell  that  they  led  towards  Thrums, 
and  in  my  exhaustion  I  had  often  to  stand  still.  Then  to 
make  a  new  start  in  the  mud  was  like  pulling  stakes  out 
of  the  ground.  So  long  as  the  rain  faced  me  I  thought  I 
could  not  be  straying  far;  but  after  an  hour  I  lost  this 
guide,  for  a  wind  rose  that  blew  it  in  all  directions. 

In  another  hour,  when  I  should  have  been  drawing  near 
Thrums,  I  found  myself  in  a  wood,  and  here  I  think  my  dis- 
tress was  greatest ;  nor  is  this  to  be  marvelled  at,  for, 
instead  of  being  near  Thrums,  I  was  listening  to  the  monot- 
onous roar  of  the  sea.  I  was  too  spent  to  reason,  but  I 
knew  that  I  must  have  travelled  direct  east,  and  must  be 
close  to  the  German  Ocean.  I  remember  putting  my  back 
against  a  tree  and  shutting  my  eyes,  and  listening  to  the 
lash  of  the  waves  against  the  beach,  and  hearing  the  faint 
toll  of  a  bell,  and  wondering  listlessly  on  what  lighthouse 
it  was  ringing.  Doubtless  I  would  have  lain  down  to 
sleep  for  ever  had  I  not  heard  another  sound  near  at 
hand.  It  was  the  knock  of  a  hammer  on  wood,  and  might 
have  been  a  fisherman  mending  his  boat.  The  instinct  of 
self-preservation  carried  me  to  it,  and  presently  I  was 
at  a  little  house.  A  man  was  standing  in  the  rain  hammer- 
ing new  hinges  to  the  door ;  and  though  I  did  not  recognise 
him,  I  saw  with  bewilderment  that  the  woman  at  his  side 
was  Nanny, 

"It's  the  dominie,"  she  cried,  and  her  brother  added: 
"Losh,  sir,  you  hinna  the  look  o'  a  living  man." 
"Nanny,"  I  said,  in  perplexity,  "what  are  you  doing  here?" 
"Whaur  else  should  I  be  ?"  she  asked. 

I  pressed  my  hands  over  my  eyes,  crying,  "Where  am  I?" 
Nanny  shrank  from  me,  but  Sanders  said,  "Has  the  rain 
driven  you  gyte,  man?     You're  in  Thrums." 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  201 

"But  the  sea,"  I  said,  distrusting  him.    "I  hear  it.    Listen !" 
"That's  the  wind  in  Windyghoul,"  Sanders  answered,  look- 
ing at  me  queerly.    "Come  awa  into  the  house." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THRUMS   DURING   THE   TWENTY-FOUR    HOURS — DEFENCE   OF 
THE    MANSE. 

Hardly  had  I  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  mud  house 
when  such  a  sickness  came  over  me  that  I  could  not  have 
looked  up,  though  Nanny's  voice  had  suddenly  changed  to 
Margaret's.  Vaguely  I  knew  that  Nanny  had  put  the  kettle 
on  the  fire, — a  woman's  first  thought  when  there  is  ill- 
ness in  the  house, — and  as  I  sat  with  my  hands  over  my 
face  I  heard  the  water  dripping  from  my  clothes  to  the  floor. 

"Why  is  that  bell  ringing?"  I  asked,  at  last,  ignoring  all 
questions  and  speaking  through  my  fingers.  An  artist,  I 
suppose,  could  paint  all  expression  out  of  a  human  face. 
The  sickness  was  having  that  effect  on  my  voice. 

"It's  the  Auld  Licht  bell,"  Sanders  said;  "and  it's  almost 
as  fearsome  to  listen  to  as  last  nicht's  rain.  I  wish  I  kent 
what  they're  ringing  it  for." 

"Wish  no  sic  things,"  said  Nancy,  nervously.  "There's 
things  it's  best  to  put  off  kenning  as  lang  as  we  can." 

"It's  that  ill-cleakit  witch,  Efiie  McBean,  that  makes  Nanny 
speak  so  doleful,"  Sanders  told  me.  "There  was  to  be  a 
prayer-meeting  last  nicht^  but,  Mr.  Dishart  never  came  to't, 
though  they  rang  till  they  wraxed  their  arms;  and  now 
Effie  says  it'll  ring  on  by  itsel'  till  he's  brocht  hame  a  corp. 
The  hellicat  says  the  rain's  a  dispensation  to  drown  him 
in  for  neglect  o'  duty.  Sal,  I  would  think  little  o'  the  Lord 
if  He  needed  to  create  a  new  sea  to  drown  one  man  in. 
Nanny,  you  cuttie,  that's  no  swearing;  I  defy  you  to  find 
a  single  lonely  oath  in  what  I've  said." 

"Never  mind  Effie  McBean,"  I  interposed.  "What  are 
the  congregation  saying  about  the  minister's  absence  ?" 

"We  ken  little  except  what  Effie  telled  us,"  Nanny  an- 
swered. "I  was  at  Tilliedrum  yestreen,  meeting  Sanders 
as  he  got  out  o'  the  gaol,  and  that  awfu'  onding  began  when 
we  was  on  the  Bellies  Braes.  We  focht  our  way  through  it, 
but  not  a  soul  did  we  meet;  and  wha  would  gang  out  the 


202  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


day  that  can  bide  at  hame  ?  Ay,  but  Effie  says  it's  kent 
in  Thrums  that  Mr.  Dishart  has  run  off  wi' — wi'  an  Egyp- 
tian." 

'"You're  waur  than  her,  Nanny,"  Sanders  said,  roughly, 
"for  you  hae  twa  reasons  for  kenning  better.  In  the  first 
place,  has  Mr.  Dishart  no  keeped  you  in  siller  a'  the  time 
I  was  awa?  and  for  another,  have  I  no  been  at  the  manse?" 

My  head  rose  now. 

"He  gaed  to  the  manse,"  Nanny  explained,  "to  thank  Mr. 
Dishart  for  being  so  good  to  me.  Ay,  but  Jean  wouldna 
let  him  in.     I'm  thinking  that  looks  gey  gray." 

"Whatever  was  her  reason,"  Sanders  admitted,  "Jean 
wouldna  open  the  door ;  but  I  keeked  in  at  the  parlour  win- 
dow, and  saw  Mrs.  Dishart  in't,  looking  very  cosylike  and 
lauching;  and  do  you  think  I  would  hae  seen  that  if  ill  had 
come  ower  the  minister  ?" 

"Not  if  Margaret  knew  of  it,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  won- 
dered at  Whamond's  forbearance. 

"She  had  a  skein  o'  worsted  stretched  out  on  her  hands," 
Sanders  continued,  "and  a  young  leddy  was  winding  it.  I 
didna  see  her  richt,  but  she  wasna  a  Thrums  leddy." 

"Effie  McBean  says  she's  his  intended,  come  to  call  him 
to  account,"  Nanny  said;  but  I  hardly  listened,  for  I  saw 
that  I  must  hurry  to  Tanmias  Whamond's.  Nanny  followed 
me  to  the  gate  with  her  gown  pulled  over  her  head,  and 
said,  excitedly : 

"Oh,  dominie,  I  warrant  it's  true.  It'll  be  Babbie.  Sanders 
doesna  suspect,  because  I've  telled  him  nothing  about  her. 
Oh,  what's  to  be  done  ?     They  were  baith  so  good  to  me." 

I  could  only  tell  her  to  keep  what  she  knew  to  herself. 

"Has  Rob  Dow  come  back  ?"  I  called  out  after  I  had  started. 

"Whaur  f rae  ?"  she  replied;  and  then  I  remembered  that 
all  these  things  had  happened  while  Nanny  was  at  Tilliedrum. 
In  this  life  some  of  the  seven  ages  are  spread  over  two 
decades,  and  others  pass  as  quickly  as  a  stage  play.  Though 
a  fifth  of  a  season's  rain  had  fallen  in  a  night  and  a  day, 
it  had  scarcely  kept  pace  with  Gavin. 

I  hurried  to  the  town  by  the  Roods.  That  brae  was  as 
deserted  as  the  country  roads,  except  where  children  had 
escaped  from  their  mothers  to  wade  in  it.  Here  and  there 
dams  were  keeping  the  water  away  from  one  door  to  send 
it  with  greater  volume  to  another,  and  at  points  the  ground 
had  fallen  in.  But  this  I  noticed  without  interest.  I  did 
not  even  realise  that  I  was  holding  my  head  painfully  to 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  203 

the  side  where  it  had  been  blown  by  the  wind  and  glued  by  the 
rain.    I  have  never  held  my  head  straight  since  that  journey. 

Only  a  few  looms  were  going,  their  pedals  in  water.  I 
was  addressed  from  several  doors  and  windows,  once  by 
Charles  Yuill. 

"Dinna  pretend,"  he  said,  "that  you've  walked  in  frae 
the  schoolhouse  alane.  The  rain  chased  me  into  this  house 
yestreen,  and  here  it  has  keeped  me,  though  I  bide  no 
further  awa  than  Tillyloss." 

"Charles,"  I  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "why  is  the  Auld  Licht 
bell  ringing?" 

"Hae  you  no  heard  about  Mr.  Dishart?"  he  asked.  "Oh, 
man !  that's  Lang  Tammas  in  the  kirk  by  himsel',  tearing  at 
the  bell  to  bring  the  folk  thegither  to  depose  the  minister." 

Instead  of  going  to  Whamond's  house  in  the  school  wynd 
I  hastened  down  the  Banker's  close  to  the  kirk,  and  had 
almost  to  turn  back,  so  choked  was  the  close  with  the  float- 
ing refuse.  I  could  see  the  bell  swaying,  but  the  kirk  was 
locked,  and  I  battered  on  the  door  to  no  purpose.  Then, 
remembering  that  Hendry  Munn  lived  in  Coutt's  trance,  I  set 
off  for  his  house.  He  saw  me  crossing  the  square,  but 
would  not  open  his  door  until  I  was  close  to  it. 

"When  I  open,"  he  cried,  "squeeze  through  quick ;" 
but  though  I  did  his  bidding  a  rush  of  water  darted  in 
before  me.  Hendry  reclosed  the  door  by  flinging  himself 
against  it. 

"When  I  saw  you  crossing  the  square,"  he  said,  "it  was 
surprise  enough  to  cure  the  hiccup." 

"Hendry,"  I  replied,  instantly,  "why  is  the  Auld  Licht 
bell  ringing?" 

He  put  his  finger  to  his  lip.  "I  see,"  he  said,  imperturbably, 
"you've  met  our  folk  in  the  glen  and  heard  frae  them  about 
the  minister." 

"What  folk?" 

"Mair  than  half  the  congregation,"  he  replied.  "I  started 
for  Glen  Quharity  twa  hours  syne  to  help  the  farmers.  You 
didna  see  them?" 

"No ;  they  must  have  been  on  the  other  side  of  the  river." 
Again  that  question  forced  my  lips,  "Why  is  the  bell  ringing?" 

"Canny,  dominie,"  he  said,  "till  we're  up  the  stair.  Mysy 
Moncur's  lug's  at  her  keyhole  listening  to  you." 

"You  lie,  Hendry  Munn,"  cried  an  invisible  woman.  The 
voice  became  more  plaintive :  "I  ken  a  heap,  Hendry,  so 
you  may  as  well  tell  me  a'." 


204  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Lick  away  at  the  bone  you  hae,"  the  shoemaker  replied, 
heartlessly,  and  conducted  me  to  his  room  up  one  of  the 
few  inside  stairs  then  in  Thrums.  Hendry's  oddest  fur- 
niture was  five  boxes,  fixed  to  the  wall  at  such  a  height 
that  children  could  climb  into  them  from  a  high  stool.  In 
these  his  bairns  slept,  and  so  space  was  economised.  I 
could  never  laugh  at  the  arrangement,  as  I  knew  that  Betty 
had  planned  it  on  her  death-bed  for  her  man's  sake.  Five 
little  heads  bobbed  up  in  their  beds  as  I  entered,  but  more 
vexing  to  me  was  Wearyworld  on  a  stool. 

"In  by,  dominie,"  he  said,  sociably.  "Sal,  you  needna 
fear  burning  wi'  a'  that  water  on  you.  You're  in  mair 
danger  o'  coming  a-boil." 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you  alone,  Hendry,"  I  said,  bluntly. 

"You  winna  put  me  out,  Hendry?"  the  alarmed  police- 
man entreated.  "Mind,  you  said  in  sic  weather  you  would 
be  friendly  to  a  brute  beast.  Ay,  ay,  dominie,  what's  your 
news?  It's  welcome,  be  it  good  or  bad.  You  would  meet 
the  townsfolk  in  the  glen,  and  they  would  tell  you  about 
Mr.  Dishart.  What,  you  hinna  heard?  Oh,  sirs,  he's  a  lost 
man.  There  would  hae  been  a  meeting  the  day  to  depose 
him  if  so  many  hadna  gaen  to  the  glen.  But  the  morn'il 
do  as  weel.  The  very  women  is  cursing  him,  and  the  laddies 
has  begun  to  gather  stanes.     He's  married  on  an  Egyp — •" 

"Hendry !"   I  cried,  like  one  giving  an  order. 

"Wearyworld,  step !"  said  Hendry,  sternly,  and  then  added, 
sof t-heartedly :  "Here's  a  bit  news  that'll  open  Mysy  Mon- 
cur's  door  to  you.  You  can  tell  her  frae  me  that  the  bell's 
ringing  just  because  I  forgot  to  tie  it  up  last  nicht,  and 
the  wind's  shaking  it,  and  I  winna  gang  out  in  the  rain 
to  stop  it." 

"Ay,"  the  policeman  said,  looking  at  me  sulkily,  "she  may 
open  her  door  for  that,  but  it'll  no  let  me  in.  Tell  me 
mair.    Tell  me  wha  the  leddy  at  the  manse  is." 

"Out  you  go,"  answered  Hendry.  "Once  she  opens  the 
door,  you  can  shove  your  foot  in,  and  syne  she's  in  your 
power."  He  pushed  Wearyworld  out,  and  came  back  to  me, 
saying,  "It  was  best  to  tell  him  the  truth,  to  keep  him  frae 
making  up  lies." 

"But  is  it  the  truth?    I  was  told  Lang  Tammas — " 

"Ay,  I  ken  that  story;  but  Tammas  has  other  work  on 
hand." 

"Then  tie  up  the  bell  at  once,  Hendry,"  I  urged. 

"I  canna,"  he  answered,  gravely.    "Tammas  took  the  keys 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  205 

o'  the  kirk  fram  me  yestreen,  and  winna  gie  them  up.  He 
«ays  the  bell's  being  rung  by  the  hand  o'  God." 

"Has  he  been  at  the  manse?    Does  Mrs.  Dishart  know — ?" 

"He's  been  at  the  manse  twa  or  three  times,  but  Jean  barred 
him  out.  She'll  let  nobody  in  till  the  minister  comes  back, 
and  so  the  mistress  kens  nothing.  But  what's  the  use  o' 
keeping  it  frae  her  ony  langer?" 

"Every  use,"  I  said. 

"None,"  answered  Hendry,  sadly.  "Dominie,  the  min- 
ister was  married  to  the  Egyptian  on  the  hill  last  nicht,  and 
Tammas  was  witness.  Not  only  were  they  married,  but 
they've  run  aff  thegither." 

"You  are  wrong,  Hendry,"  I  assured  him,  telling  as  much 
as  I  dared.     "I  left  Mr.  Dishart  in  my  house." 

"What !  But  if  that  is  so,  how  did  he  no  come  back  wi' 
you  ?" 

"Because  he  was  nearly  drowned  in  the  flood." 

••'She'll  be  wi'  him?" 

"He  was  alone." 

Hendry's  face  lit  up  dimly  with  joy,  and  then  he  shook 
his  head.  "Tammas  was  witness,"  he  said.  "Can  you  deny 
the  marriage?" 

"All  I  ask  of  you,"  I  answered,  guardedly,  "is  to  suspend 
judgment  until  the  minister  returns." 

"There  can  be  nothing  done,  at  ony  rate,"  he  said,  "till 
the  folk  themsel's  come  back  frae  the  glen;  and  I  needna 
tell  you  how  glad  we  would  a'  be  to  be  as  fond  o'  him 
as  ever.    But  Tammas  was  witness." 

"Have  pity  on  his  mother,  man." 

"We've  done  the  best  for  her  we  could,"  he  replied.  "We 
prigged  wi'  Tammas  no  to  gang  to  the  manse  till  we  was 
sure  the  minister  was  living.  'For  if  he  has  been  drowned,' 
we  said,  'his  mother  need  never  ken  what  we  were  thinking 
o'  doing.'     Ay,  and  we're  sorry  for  the  young  leddy,  too." 

"What  young  lady  is  this  you  all  talk  of?"  I  asked. 

"She's  his  intended.  Ay,  you  needna  start.  She  has 
come  a'  the  road  frae  Glasgow  to  challenge  him  about  the 
gj^psy.  The  pitiful  thing  is  that  Mrs.  Dishart  lauched  awa 
her  fears,  and  now  they're  baith  waiting  for  his  return,  as 
happy  as  ignorance  can  make  them." 

"There  is  no  such  lady,"  I  said. 

"But  there  is,"  he  answered,  doggedly,  "for  she  came  in 
a  machine  late  last  nicht,  and  I  was  ane  o'  a  dozen  that  baith 
heard  and  saw  it  through  my  window.     It  stopped  at  the 


206  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

manse  near  half  an  hour.  What's  mair,  the  lady  hersel' 
was  at  Sam'l  Farquharson's  in  the  Tenements  the  day  for 
twa  hours." 

I  listened  in  bewilderment  and  fear. 

"Sam'I's  bairn's  down  wi'  scarlet  fever  and  like  to  die, 
and  him  being  a  widow-man  he  has  gone  useless.  You 
mauna  blame  the  wives  in  the  Tenements  for  handing  back. 
They're  fleid  to  smit  their  ain  litlins ;  and  as  it  happens, 
SamTs  friends  is  a'  afif  to  the  glen.  Weel,  he  ran  greeting 
to  the  manse  for  Mr.  Dishart,  and  the  lady  heard  him  cry- 
ing to  Jean  through  the  door,  and  what  does  she  do  but 
gang  straucht  to  the  Tenements  wi'  Sam'l.  Her  goodness 
has  naturally  put  the  folk  on  her  side  against  the  minister." 

"This  does  not  prove  her  his  intended,"  I  broke   in. 

"She  was  heard  saying  to  Sam'l,"  answered  the  kirk  offi- 
cer, "that  the  minister  being  awa,  it  was  her  duty  to  take 
his  place.  Yes,  and  though  she  little  kent  it,  he  was  already 
married." 

"Hendry,"  I  said,  rising,  "I  must  see  this  lady  at  once. 
Is  she  still  at  Farquharson's  house?" 

"She  may  be  back  again  by  this  time.  Tammas  set  off 
for  Sam'I's  as  soon  as  he  heard  she  was  there,  but  he  just 
missed  her.  I  left  him  there  an  hour  syne.  He  was  wait- 
ing for  her,  determined  to  tell  her  all." 

I  set  off  for  the  Tenements  at  once,  declining  Hendry's 
company.  The  wind  had  fallen,  so  that  the  bell  no  longer 
rang,  but  the  rain  was  falling  doggedly.  The  streets  were 
still  deserted.  I  pushed  open  the  precentor's  door  in  the 
school  wynd,  but  there  was  no  one  in  the  house.  Tibbie 
Birse  saw  me,  and  shouted  from  her  door : 

"Hae  you  heard  o'  Mr.  Dishart?  He'll  never  daur  show 
face  in  Thrums  again." 

Without  giving  her  a  word  I  hastened  to  the  Tenements. 

"The  Icddy's  no  here,"  Sam'l  Farquharson  told  me,  "and 
Tammas  is  back  at  the  manse  again,  trying  to  force  his 
way  in." 

From  Sam'l,  too,  I  turned,  with  no  more  than  a  groan; 
but  he  cried  after  me,  "^erdition  on  the  man  that  has  played 
that  leddy  false." 

Had  Margaret  been  at  her  window  she  must  have  seen 
me,  so  recklessly  did  I  hurry  up  the  minister's  road,  with 
nothing  in  me  but  a  passion  to  take  Whamond  by  the  throat. 
He  was  not  in  the  garden.  The  kitchen  door  was  open. 
Jean  was  standing  at  it  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  207 

"Tammas  Whamond  ?"  I  demanded,  and  my  face  completed 
the  question. 

"You're  ower  late,"  she  wailed.  "He's  wi'  her.  Oh, 
dominie,  whaur's  the  minister?" 

"You  base  woman !"  I  cried,  'Svhy  did  you  unbar  the 
door  ?" 

"It  was  the  mistress,"  she  answered.  "She  heard  him 
shaking  it,  and  I  had  to  tell  her  wha  it  was.  Dominie,  it's  a' 
my  wite !  He  tried  to  get  in  last  nicht,  and  roared  threats 
through  the  door,  and  after  he  had  gone  awa  she  speired 
wha  I  had  been  speaking  to.  I  had  to  tell  her,  but  I  said 
he  had  come  to  let  her  ken  that  the  minister  was  taking 
shelter  frae  the  rain  in  a  farmhouse.  Ay,  I  said  he  was 
to  bide  there  till  the  flood  gaed  down,  and  that's  how  she 
has  been  easy  a'  day.  I  acted  for  the  best,  but  I'm  sair 
punished  now;  for  when  she  heard  Tammas  at  the  door  twa 
or  three  minutes  syne,  she  ordered  me  to  let  him  in,  so 
that  she  could  thank  him  for  bringing  the  news  last  nicht, 
despite  the  rain.  They're  in  the  parlour.  Oh,  dominie, 
gang  in  and  stop  his  mouth." 

This  was  hard.  I  dared  not  go  to  the  parlour.  Margaret 
might  have  died  at  sight  of  me.  I  turned  my  face  from 
Jean. 

"Jean,"  said  some  one,  opening  the  inner  kitchen  door, 
"why  did  you — ?" 

She  stopped,  and  that  was  what  turned  me  round.  As 
she  spoke,  I  thought  it  was  the  young  lady;  when  I  looked 
I  saw  it  was  Babbie,  though  no  longer  in  a  gypsy's  dress. 
Then  I  knew  that  the  young  lady  and  Babbie  were  one. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

HOW    BABBIE    SPENT   THE    NIGHT    OF    AUGUST   FOURTH. 

How  had  the  Egyptian  been  spirited  here  from  the  Spittal  ? 
I  did  not  ask  the  question.  To  interest  myself  in  Babbie 
at  that  dire  hour  of  Margaret's  life  would  have  been  as 
impossible  to  me  as  to  sit  down  to  a  book.  To  others, 
however,  it  is  only  an  old  woman  on  whom  the  parlour  door 
of  the  manse  has  closed,  only  a  garrulous  dominie  that  is 
in  pain  outside  it.     Your  eyes  are  on  the  young  wife. 

When  Babbie   was   plucked  off  the   hill,   she  thought   as 


208  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

little  as  Gavin  that  her  captor  was  Rob  Dow.  Close  as  he 
was  to  her,  he  was  but  a  shadow  unfil  she  screamed  the  sec- 
ond time,  when  he  pressed  her  to  the  ground,  and  tied  his 
neckerchief  over  her  mouth.  Then,  in  the  moment  that 
power  of  utterance  was  taken  from  her,  she  saw  the  face 
that  had  startled  her  at  Nanny's  window.  Half  carried,  she 
was  borne  forward  rapidly,  until  some  one  seemed  to  rise  out 
of  the  broom,  and  strike  them  both.  They  had  only  run 
against  the  doctor's  trap ;  and,  huddling  her  into  it,  Dow 
jumped  up  beside  her.  He  tied  her  hands  together  with  a 
cord.  For  a  time  the  horse  feared  the  darkness  in  front 
more  than  the  lash  behind;  but  when  the  rains  became  ter- 
rific,  it  rushed  ahead  wildly, — probably  with   its  eyes  shut. 

In  three  minutes  Babbie  went  through  all  the  degrees  of 
fear.  In  the  first  she  thought  Lord  Rintoul  had  kidnapped 
her;  but  no  sooner  had  her  captor  resolved  himself  into  Dow, 
drunk  with  the  events  of  the  day  and  night,  than  in  the 
earl's  hands  would  have  lain  safety.  Next,  Dow  was  for- 
gotten in  the  dread  of  a  sudden  death  which  he  must  share. 
And  lastly,  the  rain  seemed  to  be  driving  all  other  horrors 
back,  that  it  might  have  her  for  its  own.  Her  perils  in- 
creased to  the  unbearable  as  quickly  as  an  iron  in  the  fire 
passes  through  the  various  stages  between  warmth  and  white 
heat.  Then  she  had  to  do  something;  and  as  she  could  not 
cry  out,  she  flung  herself  from  the  dog-cart.  She  fell 
heavily  in  Caddam  Wood,  but  the  rain  would  not  let  her 
lie  there  stunned.  It  beat  her  back  to  consciousness,  and 
she  sat  up  on  her  knees,  and  listened  breathlessl)^  staring 
in  the  direction  the  trap  had  taken,  as  if  her  eyes  could  help 
her  ears. 

All  night,  I  have  said,  the  rain  poured,  but  those  charges  , 
only  rode  down  the  deluge  at  intervals,  as  now  and  again 
one  wave  greater  than  the  others  stalks  over  the  sea.  In 
the  first  lull  it  appeared  to  Babbie  that  the  storm  had  swept 
by,  leaving  her  to  Dow.  Now  she  heard  the  rubbing  of  the 
branches,  and  felt  the  torn  leaves  falling  on  her  gown.  She 
rose  to  feel  her  way  out  of  the  wood  with  her  bound  hands, 
then  sank  in  terror,  for  some  one  had  called  her  name.  Next 
moment  she  was  up  again,  for  the  voice  was  Gavin's,  who 
was  hurrying  after  her,  as  he  thought,  down  Windyghoul. 
He  was  no  farther  away  than  a  whisper  might  have  carried 
on  a  still  night,  but  she  dared  not  pursue  liim,  for  already 
Dow  was  coming  back.  She  could  not  see  him,  but  she 
heard  the  horse  whinny  and  the  rocking  of  the  dog-cart. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  209 

Dow  was  now  at  the  brute's  head,  and  probably  it  tried 
to  bite  him,  for  he  struck  it,  crying : 

"Would  you  ?  Stand  still  till  I  find  her.  I  heard  her  move 
this  minute." 

Babbie  crouched  upon  a  big  stone  and  sat  motionless 
while  he  groped  for  her.  Her  breathing  might  have  been 
tied  now,  as  well  as  her  mouth.  She  heard  him  feeling  for 
her,  first  with  his  feet  and  then  with  his  hands,  and  swear- 
ing when  his  head  struck  against  a  tree. 

''I  ken  you're  within  hearing,"  he  muttered,  "and  I'll  hae 
you  yet.    I  have  a  gully-knife  in  my  hand.    Listen!" 

He  severed  a  whin-stalk  with  the  knife,  and  Babbie  seemed 
to  see  the  gleam  of  the  blade. 

"What  do  I  mean  by  wanting  to  kill  you?"  he  said,  as 
if  she  had  asked  the  question.  "Do  you  no  ken  wha  said 
to  me,  'Kill  this  woman?'  It  was  the  Lord.  'I  winna  kill 
her,'  I  said,  'but  I'll  cart  her  out  o'  the  country.'  'Kill 
her,'  says  He ;  'why  encumbereth  she  the  ground  ?'  " 

He  resumed  his  search,  but  with  new  tactics.  "I  see 
you  now,"  he  would  cry,  and  rush  forward  perhaps  within 
a  yard  of  her.  Then  she  must  have  screamed  had  she  had 
the  power.  When  he  tied  that  neckerchief  round  her  mouth 
he  prolonged  her  life. 

Then  came  the  second  hurricane  of  rain,  so  appalling  that 
had  Babbie's  hands  been  free  she  would  have  pressed  them 
to  her  ears.  For  a  full  minute  she  forgot  Dow's  presence. 
A  living  thing  touched  her  face.  The  horse  had  found 
her.  She  recoiled  from  it,  but  its  frightened  head  pressed 
heavily  on  her  shoulder.  She  rose  and  tried  to  steal  away, 
but  the  brute  followed,  and  as  the  rain  suddenly  exhausted 
itself  she  heard  the  dragging  of  the  dog-cart.  She  had  to 
halt. 

Again  she  heard  Dow's  voice.  Perhaps  he  had  been  speak- 
ing throughout  the  roar  of  the  rain.  If  so,  it  must  have 
made  him  deaf  to  his  own  words.  He  groped  for  the  horse's 
head,  and  presently  his  hand  touched  Babbie's  dress,  then 
jumped  from  it,  so  suddenly  had  lie  found  her.  No  sound 
escaped  him,  and  she  was  beginning  to  think  it  possible 
that  he  had  mistaken  her  for  a  bush  when  his  hand  went 
over  her  face.     He  was  making  sure  of  his  discovery. 

"The  Lord  has  delivered  you  into  my  hands,"  he  said,  in 
a  low  voice,  with  some  awe  in  it.  Then  he  pulled  her  to 
the  ground,  and,  sitting  dov/n  beside  her,  rocked  himself 
backward  and   forward,  his   hands   round   his  knees.     She 


210  THE  LITTLE  ]\IimSTER 


would  have  bartered  the  world  for  power  to  speak  to 
him. 

"He  wouldna  hear  o'  my  just  cartmg  you  to  some  other 
country-side,"  he  said,  confidentially.  "  'The  devil  would  just 
blaw  her  back  again/  says  He,  'therefore  kill  her.'  'And 
if  I  kill  her,'  I  says,  'they'll  hang  me.'  'You  can  hang 
yoursel','  says  he.  'What  wi'?'  I  speired.  'Wi'  the  reins 
o'  the  dog-cart,'  says  He.  'They  would  break,'  says  I. 
'VVeel,  weel,'  says  He,  'though  they  do  hang  you,  nobody'U 
miss  you.'    'That's  true,'  says  I,  'and  You  are  a  just  God.'" 

He  stood  up  and  confronted  her. 

"Prisoner  at  the  bar,"  he  said,  "hae  ye  onything  to  say 
why  sentence  of  death  shouldna  be  pronounced  against  you? 
She  doesna  answer.     She  kens  death  is  her  deserts."  _ 

By  this  time  he  had  forgotten  probably  why  his  victim 
was  dumb. 

"Prisoner  at  the  bar,  hand  back  to  me  the  soul  o'  Gavin 
Dishart.  You  winna?  Did  the  devil,  your  master,  summon 
you  to  him  and  say,  'Either  that 'noble  man  or  me  maun 
leave  Thrums?'  He  did.  And  did  you,  or  did  you  no, 
drag  that  minister,  when  under  your  spell,  to  the  hill,  and 
there  marry  him  ower  the  tongs?  You  did.  Witnesses, 
Rob  Dow  and  Tammas  Whamond." 

She  was  moving  from  him  on  her  knees,  meaning  when 
out  of  arm's  reach  to  make  a  dash  for  life. 

"Sit  down,"  he  grumbled,  "or  how  can  you  expect  a  fair 
trial  ?  Prisoner  at  the  bar,  you  have  been  found  guilty 
of  witchcraft." 

For  the  first  time  his  voice  faltered. 

"That's  the  difficulty,  for  witches  canna  die,  except  by 
burning  or  drowning.  There's  no  blood  in  you  for  my 
knife,  and  your  neck  wouldna  twist.  Your  master  has  brocht 
the  rain  to  put  out  a'  the  fires,  and  we'll  hae  to  wait  till 
it  runs  into  a  pool  deep  enough  to  drown  you. 

"I  wonder  at  You,  God.  Do  You  believe  her  master'll 
mak'  the  pool  for  her?  He'll  rather  stop  his  rain.  Mr. 
Dishart  said  You  was  mair  powerful  than  the  devil,  but 
it  doesna  look  like  it.  H  You  had  the  power,  how  did 
You  no  stop  this  woman  working  her  will  on  the  minister? 
You  kent  what  she  was  doing,  for  You  ken  a'  things.  Mr. 
Dishart  says  You  ken  a'  things.  If  You  do,  the  mair  shame 
to  You.  Would  a  shepherd,  that  could  help  it,  let  dogs 
worry  his  sheep?  Kill  her!  It's  fine  to  cry  'Kill  her,'  but 
whaur's  the  bonfire,  whaur's  the  pool?    You  that  made  the 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  211 

heaven  and  the  earth,  and  all  that  in  them  is,  can  You 
no  set  fire  to  some  wet  whins,  or  change  this  stane  into  a 
mill-dam  ?" 

He  struck  the  stone  with  his  fist,  and  then  gave  a  cry 
of  exultation.  He  raised  the  great  slab  in  his  arms  and 
flung  it  from  him.  In  that  moment  Babbie  might  have  run 
away,  but  she  fainted.  Almost  simultaneously  with  Dow  she 
knew  this  was  the  stone  which  covered  the  Caddam  well. 
When  she  came  to,  Dow  was  speaking,  and  his  voice  had 
become  solemn. 

"You  said  your  master  was  mair  powerful  than  mine,  and 
I  said  it,  too,  and  all  the  time  you  was  sitting  here  wi' 
the  very  pool  aneath  you  that  I  have  been  praying  for. 
Listen !" 

He  dropped  a  stone  into  the  well,  and  she  heard  it  strike 
the  water. 

"What  are  you  shaking  at?"  he  said,  in  reproof.  "Was 
it  no  yoursel'  that  chose  the  spot?  Lassie,  say  your  prayers. 
Are  you  saying  them?" 

He  put  his  hand  over  her  face,  to  feel  if  her  lips  were 
moving,  and  tore  off  the  neckerchief. 

And  then  again  the  rain  came  between  them.  In  that 
rain  one  could  not  think.  Babbie  did  not  know  that  she 
had  bitten  through  the  string  that  tied  her  hands.  She 
planned  no  escape.  But  she  flung  herself  at  the  place  where 
Dow  had  been  standing.  He  was  no  longer  there,  and  she 
fell  heavily,  and  was  on  her  feet  again  in  an  instant,  and 
running  recklessly.  Trees  intercepted  her,  and  she  thought 
they  were  Dow,  and  wrestled  with  them.  By  and  by  she  fell 
into  Windyghoul,  and  there  she  crouched  until  all  her  senses 
were  restored  to  her,  when  she  remembered  that  she  had 
been  married  lately. 

How  long  Dow  was  in  discovering  that  she  had  escaped, 
and  whether  he  searched  for  her,  no  one  knows.  After  a 
time  he  jumped  into  the  dog-cart  again,  and  drove  aimlessly 
through  the  rain.  That  wild  journey  probably  lasted  two 
hours,  and  came  to  an  abrupt  end  only  when  a  tree  fell  upon 
the  trap.  The  horse  galloped  off,  but  one  of  Dow's  legs 
was  beneath  the  tree,  and  there  he  had  to  lie  helpless,  for 
though  the  leg  was  little  injured,  he  could  not  extricate  him- 
self. A  night  and  day  passed,  and  he  believed  that  he  must 
die;  but  even  in  this  plight  he  did  not  forget  the  man  he 
loved.  He  found  a  piece  of  slate,  and  in  the  darkness  cut 
these  words  on  it  with  his  knife: 


212  THE  LITTLE  INHNISTER 

"Me  being  about  to  die,  I  solemnly  swear  I  didna  see  the 
minister  marrying  an  Egyptian  on  the  hill  this  nicht.  May  I 
burn  in  Hell  if  this  is  no  true. 

(Signed)         "Rob  Dow." 

This  document  he  put  in  his  pocket,  and  so  preserved 
proof  of  what  he  was  perjuring  himself  to  deny. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

BABBIE   AND    MARGARET — DEFENCE  OF    THE    MANSE   CONTINUED. 

The  'Egyptian  was  mournful  in  Windyghoul,  up  which  she 
had  once  danced  and  sung;  but  you  inust  not  think  that 
she  still  feared  Dow.  I  felt  McKenzie's  clutch  on  my  arm 
for  hours  after  he  left  me,  but  she  was  far  braver  than  I; 
indeed,  dangers  at  which  I  should  have  shut  my  eyes  only 
made  hers  gleam,  and  I  suppose  it  was  sheer  love  of  them 
that  first  made  her  play  the  coquette  with  Gavin.  If  she 
cried  now,  it  was  not  for  herself ;  it  was  because  she  thought 
she  had  destroyed  him.  Could  I  have  gone  to  her  then 
and  said  that  Gavin  wanted  to  blot  out  the  gypsy  wedding, 
that  throbbing  little  breast  would  have  frozen  at  once,  and 
the  drooping  head  would  have  been  proud  again,  and  she 
would  have  gone  away  for  ever  without  another  tear. 

What  do  I  say?  I  am  doing  a  wrong  to  the  love  these 
two  bore  each  other.  Babbie  would  not  have  taken  so  base 
a  message  from  my  lips.  He  would  have  had  to  say  the 
words  to  her  himself  before  she  believed  them  his.  What 
would  he  Avant  her  to  do  now  ?  was  the  only  question  she 
asked  herself.  To  follow  him  was  useless,  for  in  that  rain 
and  darkness  two  people  might  have  searched  for  each  other 
all  night  in  a  single  field.  That  he  would  go  to  the  Spittal, 
thinking  her  in  Rintoul's  dog-cart,  she  did  not  doubt ;  and 
his  distress  was  painful  to  her  to  think  of.  But  not  know- 
ing that  the  burns  were  *n  flood,  she  underestimated  his 
danger. 

Remembering  that  the  mud  house  was  near,  she  groped  her 
way  to  it,  meaning  to  pass  the  night  there ;  but  at  the  gate 
she  turned  away  hastily,  hearing  from  the  door  the  voice 
of  a  man  she  did  not  know  to  be  Nanny's  brother.  She 
wandered  recklessly   a  short  distance,  until  the   rain  began 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  213 

p— ^^^^^^■■^— ^^'^^™^^— "^— ^■— — ^■^^^™^^—" — ~— ^"^^^~^^"^'^ 

to  threaten  again,  and  then,  falling  on  her  knees  in  the 
broom,  she  prayed  to  God  for  guidance.  When  she  rose 
she  set  off  for  the  manse. 

The  rain  that  followed  the  flash  of  lightning  had  brought 
Margaret  to  the  kitchen. 

"Jean,  did  you  ever  hear  such  a  rain?  It  is  trying  to 
break  into  the  manse." 

"I  canna  hear  you,  ma'am ;  is  it  the  rain  you're  feared  at  ?" 

"What  else  could  it  be?" 

Jean  did  not  answer. 

"I  hope  the  minister  won't  leave  the  church,  Jean,  till 
this  is  over?" 

"Nobody  would  daur,  ma'am.  The  rain'U  turn  the  key 
on  them  all." 

Jean  forced  out  these  words  with  difficulty,  for  she  knew 
that  the  church  had  been  empty  and  the  door  locked  for 
over  an  hour. 

"This  rain  has  come  as  if  in  answer  to  the  minister's 
prayer,  Jean." 

"It  wasna  rain  like  this  they  wanted." 

"Jean,  you  would  not  attempt  to  guide  the  Lord's  hand. 
The  minister  will  have  to  reprove  the  people  for  thinking 
too  much  of  him  again,  for  they  will  say  that  he  induced 
God  to  send  the  rain.  To-night's  meeting  will  be  re- 
membered long  in  Thrums." 

Jean  shuddered,  and  said,  "It's  mair  like  an  ordinary  rain 
now,  ma'am." 

"But  it  has  put  out  your  fire,  and  I  wanted  another  heater. 
Perhaps  the  one  I  have  is  hot  enough,  though." 

Margaret  returned  to  the  parlour,  and  from  the  kitchen 
Jean  could  hear  the  heater  tilted  backward  and  forward 
in  the  box-iron, — a  pleasant,  homely  sound  when  there  is 
happiness  in  the  house.  Soon  she  heard  a  step  outside, 
however,  and  it  was  followed  'by  a  rough  shaking  of  the 
barred  door. 

"Is  it  you,  Mr.  Dishart?"  Jean  asked,  nervously. 

"It's  me,  Tammas  Whamond,"  the  precentor  answered. 
"Unbar  the  door." 

"What  do  you  want?     Speak  low." 

"I  winna  speak  low.  Let  me  in.  I  hae  nev^s  for  the 
minister's  mother." 

"What  news?"  demanded  Jean. 

"Jean  Proctor,  as  chief  elder  of  the  kirk  I  order  you 
to  let  me  do  my  duty." 


214  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Whaur's  the  minister?" 

"He's  a  minister  no  longer.  He's  married  a  gypsy  woman 
and  run  avva  wi'  her." 

"You  lie,  Tanimas  Whamond.     I  believe — " 

"Your  belief's  of  no  consequence.  Open  the  door,  and 
let  me  in  to  tell  your  mistress  what  I  hae  seen." 

"She'll  hear  it  first  frae  his  ain  lips  if  she  hears  it  ava. 
I  winna  open  the  door." 

"Then  I'll  burst  it  open." 

Whamond  flung  himself  at  the  door,  and  Jean,  her  fingers 
rigid  with  fear,  stood  waiting  for  its  fall.  But  the  rain 
came  to  her  rescue  by  lashing  the  precentor  until  even  he 
was  forced  to   run  from  it. 

"I'll  be  back  again,"  he  cried.  "Woe  to  you,  Jean  Proctor, 
that  hae  denied  your  God  this  nicht." 

"Who  was  that  speaking  to  you,  Jean?"  asked  Margaret, 
reentering  the  kitchen.  Until  the  rain  abated  Jean  did  not 
attempt  to  answer. 

"I  thought  it  was  the  precentor's  voice,"  Margaret  said. 

Jean  was  a  poor  hand  at  lying,  and  she  stuttered  in  her 
answer. 

"There  is  nothing  wrong,  is  there  ?"  cried  Margaret,  in 
sudden  fright.     "My  son — " 

"Nothing,  nothing." 

The  words  jumped  from  Jean  to  save  Margaret  from  fall- 
ing. Now  she  could  not  take  them  back.  "I  winna  believe 
it  o'  him,"  said  Jean  to  herself.  "Let  them  say  what  they 
will,  I'll  be  true  to  him ;  and  when  he  comes  back  he'll  find 
her  as  he  left  her." 

"It  was  Lang  Tammas,"  she  answered  her  mistress ;  "but 
he  just  came  to  say  that — " 

"Quick,  Jean,  what?" 

"Mr.  Dishart  has  been  called  to  a  sick  bed  in  the  country, 
ma'am, — to  the  farm  o'  Look-About-You ;  and  as  it's  sic  a 
rain,  he's  to  bide  there  a'  nicht." 

"And  Whamond  came  through  that  rain  to  tell  me  this? 
How  good  of  him.    Was  there  any  other  message  ?" 

"Just  that  the  minister  hoped  you  would  go  straight  to 
your  bed,  ma'am,"  said  Jean,  thinking  to  herself,  "There 
can  be  no  great  sin  in  giving  her  one  mair  happy  nicht; 
it  may  be  her  last." 

The  two  women  talked  for  a  short  time,  and  then  read 
verse  about  in  the  parlour  from  the  third  chapter  of  Mark. 

"This   is  the   first  night   we  have   been  left  alone   in   the 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  215 

manse,"  Margaret  said,  as  she  was  retiring  to  her  bed- 
room, "and  we  must  not  grudge  the  minister  to  those  who 
have  sore  need  of  him.  I  notice  that  you  have  barred  the 
doors." 

"Ay,  they're  barred.    Nobody  can  win  in  the  nicht." 

"Nobody  will  want  in,  Jean,"  Margaret  said,  smiling. 

"I  dinna  ken  about  that,"  answered  Jean,  below  her  breath. 
"Ay,  ma'am,  may  you  sleep  for  baith  o'  us  this  nicht,  for 
I  daurna  gang  to  my  bed." 

Jean  was  both  right  and  wrong,  for  two  persons  wanted 
in  within  the  next  half  hour,  and  she  opened  the  door  to 
both  of  them.     The  first  to  come  was  Babbie. 

So  long  as  women  sit  up  of  nights  listening  for  a  foot- 
step, will  they  flatten  their  faces  at  the  window,  though 
all  without  be  black.  Jean  had  not  been  back  in  the  kitchen 
for  two  minutes  before  she  raised  the  blind.  Her  eyes 
were  close  to  the  glass,  when  she  saw  another  face  almost 
meet  hers,  as  you  may  touch  your  reflection  in  a  mirror. 
But  this  face  was  not  her  own.  It  was  white  and  sad. 
Jean  suppressed  a  cry,  and  let  the  blind  fall,  as  if  shutting 
the  lid  on  some  uncanny  thing. 

"Won't  you  let  me  in?"  said  a  voice  that  might  have 
been  only  the  sob  of  a  rain-beaten  wind;  "I  am  nearly 
drowned." 

Jean  stood  like  death ;  but  her  suppliant  would  not  pass  on. 

"You  are  not  afraid?"  the  voice  continued.  "Raise  the 
blind  again,  and  you  will  see  that  no  one  need  fear  me." 

At  this  request  Jean's  hands  sought  each  other's  company 
behind  her  back. 

"Wha  are  you?"  she  asked,  without  stirring.  "Are  you — 
the  woman  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Whaur's  the  minister?" 

The  rain  again  became  wild,  but  this  time  it  only  tore 
by  the  manse  as  if  to  a  conflict  beyond. 

"Are  you  aye  there  ?  I  daurna  let  you  in  till  I'm  sure  the 
mistress  is  bedded.  Gang  round  to  the  front,  and  see  if 
there's  ony  licht  burning  in  the  high  west  window." 

"There  was  a  light,"  the  voice  said,  presently,  "but  it 
was  turned  out  as  I  looked." 

"Then  I'll  let  you  in,  and  God  kens  I  mean  no  wrang 
by  it." 

Babbie  entered  shivering,  and  Jean  rebarred  the  door. 
Then  she  looked  long  at  the  woman  whom  her  master  loved. 


216  THE  LITTLE  INIINISTER 

Babbie  was  on  her  knees  at  the  hearth,  holding  out  her 
hands  to  the  dead  fire. 

"What  a  pity  it's  a  fause  face." 

"Do  I  look  so  false?" 

"Is  it  true?     You're  no  married  to  him?" 

"Yes,  it  is  true." 

"And  yet  you  look  as  if  you  was  fond  o'  him.  If  you 
cared  for  him,  how  could  you  do  it?" 

"That  was  why  I  did  it." 

"And  him  could  hae  had  wha  he  liked." 

"I  gave  up  Lord  Rintoul  for  him." 

"What?     Na,  na;  you're  the  Egyptian." 

"You  judge  me  by  my  dress." 

"And  soaking  it  is.  How  you're  shivering, — what  neat 
fingers, — what  bonny  little  feet.  I  could  near  believe  what 
you  tell  me.  Aff  wi'  these  rags,  an'  I'll  gie  you  on  my 
black  frock,  if — if  you  promise  me  no  to  gang  awa  wi't." 

So  Babbie  put  on  some  clothes  of  Jean's,  including  the 
black  frock,  and  stockings  and  shoes. 

"Mr.  Dishart  cannot  be  back,  Jean,"  she  said,  "before 
morning,  and  I  don't  want  his  mother  to  see  me  till  he 
comes." 

"I  wouldna  let  you  near  her  the  nicht  though  you  gaed 
on  your  knees  to  me.     But  whaur  is  he  ?" 

Babbie  explained  why  Gavin  had  set  off  for  the  Spittal; 
but  Jean  shook  her  head  incredulously,  saying,  "I  canna 
believe  you're  that  grand  leddy,  and  yet  ilka  time  I  look 
at  you  I  could  near  believe  it." 

In  another  minute  Jean  had  something  else  to  think  of, 
for  there  came  a  loud  rap  upon  the  front  door. 

"It's  Tammas  Whamond  back  again,"  she  moaned;  "and 
if  t'he  mistress  hears,  she'll  tell  me  to  let  him  in." 

"You  shall  open  to  me,"  cried  a  hoarse  voice. 

"That's  no  Tammas's  word,"  Jean  said,  in  bewilderment. 

"It  is  Lord  Rintoul,"  Babbie  whispered. 

"What?     Then  it's  truth  you  telled  me." 

The  knocking  continued;  a  door  up-stairs  opened,  and 
Margaret  spoke  over  the  banisters. 

"Have  you  gone  to  bed,  Jean?  Some  one  is  knocking 
at  the  door,  and  a  minute  ago  I  thought  I  heard  a  car- 
riage stop  close  by.  Perhaps  the  farmer  has  driven  Mr. 
Dishart   home." 

"I'm  putting  on  my  things,  ma'am,"  Jean  answered;  then 
whispered  to  Babbie,  "What's  to  be  done?"" 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  217 

"He  won't  go  away,"  Babbie  answered.  "You  will  have 
to  let  him  into  the  parlour,  Jean.  Can  she  see  the  door 
from  up  there  ?" 

"No;  but  though  he  was  in  the  parlour?" 

"I  shall  go  to  him  there." 

"Make  haste,  Jean,"  Margaret  called.  "If  it  is  any 
persons  wanting  shelter,  we  must  give  it  them  on  such  a 
night." 

"A  minute,  ma'am,"  Jean  answered.  To  Babbie,  she  whis- 
pered, "What  shall   I   say  to  her?" 

"I — I  don't  know,"  answered  Babbie,  ruefully.  "Think  of 
something,  Jean.  But  open  the  door  now.  Stop,  let  me  into 
the  parlour  first." 

The  two  women  stole  into  the  parlour. 

"Tell  me  what  will  be  the  result  o'  his  coming  here," 
entreated  Jean. 

"The  result,"  Babbie  said,  firmly,  "will  be  that  he  shall 
go  away  and  leave  me  here." 

Margaret  heard  Jean  open  the  front  door  and  speak  to 
some  person  or  persons  whom  she  showed  into  the  parlour. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

RINTOUL  AND   BABBIE BREAKDOWN   OF   THE   DEFENCE  OF 

THE    MANSE. 

"You  dare  to  look  me  in  the  face !" 

They  were  Rintoul's  words.  Yet  Babbie  had  only  ven- 
tured to  look  up  because  he  was  so  long  in  speaking.  His 
voice  was  low,  but  harsh,  like  a  wheel  on  which  the  brake 
is  pressed  sharply. 

"It  seems  to  be  more  than  the  man  is  capable  of,"  he 
added,   sourly. 

"Do  you  think,"  Babbie  exclaimed,  taking  fire,  "that  he 
is  afraid  of  you?" 

"So  it  seems ;  but  I  will  drag  him  into  the  light,  wherever 
he  is  skulking." 

Lord  Rintoul  strode  to  the  door,  and  the  brake  was  off 
his  tongue  already. 

"Go,"  said  Babbie,  coldly,  "and  shout  and  stamp  through 
the  house;  you  may  succeed  in  frightening  the  women,  who 
are  the  only  persons  in  it." 


218  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 


"Where   is   he?" 

"He  has  gone  to  the  Spittal  to  see  you." 

"He  knew  I  was  on  the  hill." 

"He  lost  me  in  the  darkness,  and  thought  you  had  run 
away  with  me  in  your  trap." 

"Ha!  So  he  is  off  to  the  Spittal  to  ask  me  to  give  you 
back  to  him." 

"To  compel  you,"  corrected  Babbie. 

"Pooh !"  said  the  earl,  nervously,  "that  was  but  mummery 
on  the  hill." 

"It  was  a  marriage." 

"With  gypsies  for  witnesses.  Their  word  would  count 
for  less  than  nothing.  Babbie,  I  am  still  in  time  to  save 
you." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  saved.  The  marriage  had  witnesses 
no  court  could  discredit." 

"What  witnesses?" 

"Mr.  McKenzie  and  yourself." 

She  heard  his  teeth  meet.  When  next  she  looked  at  him, 
there  were  tears  in  his  eyes  as  well  as  in  her  own.  It  was 
perhaps  the  first  time  these  two  had  ever  been  in  close 
sympathy.    Both  were  grieving  for  Rintoul. 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  Babbie  began  in  a  broken  voice;  then 
stopped,  because  they  seemed  such  feeble  words. 

"If  you  are  sorry,"  the  earl  answered,  eagerly,  "it  is 
not  yet  too  late.  McKenzie  and  I  saw  nothing.  Come  away 
with  me.  Babbie,  if  only  in  pity  for  yourself." 

"Ah,  but   I   don't  pity  myself." 

"Because  this  man  has  blinded  you." 

"No,   he  has   made   me   see." 

"This  mummery  on  the  hill — " 

"Why  do  you  call  it  so?  I  believe  God  approved  of  that 
marriage,  as  he  could  never  have  countenanced  yours  and 
mine." 

"God !     I  never  heard  the  word  on  your  lips  before." 

"I   know  that." 

"It  is  his  teaching,  doubtless?" 

"Yes." 

"And  he  told  you  that  to  do  to  me  as  you  have  done  was 
to  be  pleasing  in  God's  sight?" 

"No;  he  knows  that  it  was  so  evil  in  God's  sight  that 
I  shall  suffer  for  it  always." 

"But  he  has  done  no  wrong,  so  there  is  no  punishment 
for  him?" 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  219 

"It  is  true  that  he  has  done  no  wrong,  but  his  punishment 
will  be  worse,  probably,  than  mine." 

"That,"  said  the  earl,  scoffing,  "is  not  just." 

"It  is  just.  He  has  accepted  responsibility  for  my  sins 
by  marrying  me." 

"And  what   form  is  his  punishment  to  take?" 

"For  marrying  me  he  will  be  driven  from  his  church  and 
dishonoured  in  all  men's  eyes,  unless — unless  God  is  more 
merciful  to  us  than  we  can  expect." 

Her  sincerity  was  so  obvious  that  the  earl  could  no  longer 
meet  it  with  sarcasm, 

"It  is  you  I  pity  now,"  he  said,  looking  wonderingly  at 
her.  "Do  you  not  see  that  this  man  has  deceived  you? 
Where  was  his  boasted  purity  in  meeting  you  by  stealth,  as 
he  must  have  been  doing,  and  plotting  to  take  you  from  me  ?" 

"If  you  knew  him,"  Babbie  answered,  "you  would  not 
need  to  be  told  that  he  is  incapable  of  that.  He  thought 
me  an  ordinary  gypsy  until  an  hour  ago." 

"And  you  had  so  little  regard  for  me  that  you  waited  until 
the  eve  of  what  was  to  be  our  marriage,  and  then,  laugh- 
ing at   my  shame,   ran  off  to   marry  him." 

"I  am  not  so  bad  as  that,"  Babbie  answered,  and  told  him 
what  had  brought  her  to  Thrums.  "I  had  no  thought  but 
of  returning  to  you,  nor  he  of  keeping  me  from  you.  We 
had  said  good-bye  at  the  mud  house  door, — and  then  wt 
heard  your  voice." 

"And  my  voice  was  so  horrible  to  you  that  it  drove  you 
to  this?" 

"I — I  love  him  so  much." 

What  more  could  Babbie  answer?  These  words  told  him 
that,  if  love  commands,  home,  the  friendships  of  a  lifetime, 
kindnesses  incalculable,  are  at  once  as  naught.  Nothing  is 
so  cruel  as  love  if  a  rival  challenges  it  to  combat. 

"Why  could  you  not  love  me,  Babbie?"  said  the  earl, 
sadly.    "I  have  done  so  much  for  you." 

It  was  little  he  had  done  for  her  that  was  not  selfish. 
Men  are  deceived  curiously  in  such  matters.  When  they 
add  a  new  wing  to  their  house,  they  do  not  call  the  action 
virtue ;  but  if  they  give  to  a  fellow  creature  for  their  own 
gratification,  they  demand  of  God  a  good  mark  for  it. 
Babbie,  however,  was  in  no  mood  to  make  light  of  the  earl's 
gifts,  and  at  his  question  she  shook  her  head  sorrowfully. 

"Is  it  because  I  am  too — old?" 

This  was  the  only  time  he  ever  spoke  of  his  age  to  her. 


220  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Oh,  no,  it  is  not  that,"  she  rephed,  hastily,  "I  love  Mr. 
Dishart, — because  he  loves  me,  I  think." 

"Have  I  not  loved  you  always?" 

"Never,"  Babbie  answered,  simply.  "If  you  had,  perhaps 
then  I  should  have  loved  you." 

"Babbie,"  he  exclaimed,  "if  ever  man  loved  woman,  and 
showed  it  by  the  sacrifices  he  made  for  her,  I — " 

"No,"  Babbie  said,  "you  don't  understand  what  it  is.  Ah ! 
I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  you." 

"If  I  don't  know  what  it  is,  what  is  it?"  he  asked,  almost 
humbly.     "I  scarcely  know  you  now." 

"That  is   it,"   said   Babbie. 

She  gave  him  back  his  ring  and  then  he  broke  down 
pitifully.  Doubtless  there  was  good  in  him.  But  I  saw 
him  only  once ;  and  with  nothing  to  contrast  against  it,  I 
may  not  now  attempt  to  breathe  life  into  the  dust  of  his 
senile  passion.  These  were  the  last  words  that  passed 
between  him  and  Babbie : 

"There  was  nothing,"  he  said,  wistfully,  "in  this  wide 
world  that  you  could  not  have  had  by  asking  me  for  it.  Was 
not  that  love?" 

"No,"  she  answered.  "What  right  have  I  to  everything 
I  cry  for?" 

"You  should  never  have  had  a  care  had  you  married  me. 
That  is  love." 

"It  is  not.  I  want  to  share  my  husband's  cares,  as  I 
expect  him  to  share  mine." 

"I  would  have  humoured  you  in  everything." 

"You  always  did:  as  if  a  woman's  mind  were  for  laugh- 
ing at,  like  a  baby's  passions." 

"You  had  your  passions,  too,  Babbie.  Yet  did  I  ever 
chide  you  for  them?     That  was  love." 

"No,  it  was  contempt.  Oh,"  she  cried,  passionately,  "what 
have  not  you  men  to  answer  for  who  talk  of  love  to  a 
women  when  her  face  is  all  you  know  of  her;  and  her  pas- 
sions, her  aspirations,  are  for  kissing  to  sleep,  her  very 
soul  a  plaything?  I  tell  you.  Lord  Rintoul,  and  it  is  all 
the  message  I  send  back  to  the  gentlemen  at  the  Spittal 
who  made  love  to  me  behind  your  back,  that  this  is  a  poor 
folly,  and  well  calculated  to  rouse  the  wrath  of  God." 

Now,  Jean's  ear  had  been  to  the  parlour  keyhole  for  a 
time,  but  some  message  she  had  to  take  to  Margaret,  and 
what  she  risked  saying  was  this : 

"It's  Lord  Rintoul  and  a  party  that  has  been  catched  in 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  221 

the  rain,  and  he  would  be  obliged  to  you  if  you  could  gie 
his  bride  shelter  for  the  nicht." 

Thus  the  distracted  servant  thought  to  keep  Margaret's 
mind  at  rest  until  Gavin  came  back. 

"Lord  Rintoul!"  exclaimed  Margaret.  "What  a  pity  Gavin 
has  missed  him.  Of  course  she  can  stay  here.  Did  you  say 
I  had  gone  to  bed  ?  I  should  not  know  what  to  say  to  a 
lord.  But  ask  her  to  come  up  to  me  after  he  has  gone, — 
and,  Jean,  is  the  parlour  looking  tidy?" 

Lord  Rintoul  having  departed,  Jean  told  Babbie  how  she 
had  accounted  to  Margaret  for  his  visit.  "And  she  telled 
me  to  gie  you  dry  claethes  and  her  compliments,  and  would 
you  gang  up  to  the  bedroom  and  see  her?" 

Very  slowly  Babbie  climbed  the  stairs.  I  suppose  she  is 
the  only  person  who  was  ever  afraid  of  Margaret.  Her 
first  knock  on  the  bedroom  door  was  so  soft  that  Margaret, 
who  was  sitting  up  in  bed,  did  not  hear  it.  When  Babbie 
entered  the  room,  Margaret's  first  thought  was  that  there 
could  be  no  other  so  beautiful  as  this,  and  her  second  was 
that  the  stranger  seemed  even  more  timid  than  herself.  After 
a  few  minutes'  talk  she  laid  aside  her  primness,  a  weapon 
she  had  drawn  in  self-defence  lest  this  fine  lady  should 
not  understand  the  grandeur  of  a  manse,  and  at  a  "Call  me 
Babbie,  won't  you?"  she  smiled. 

"That  is  what  some  other  person  calls  you,"^  said  Mar- 
garet, archly.  "Do  you  know  that  he  took  twenty  minutes 
to  say  good-night  ?  My  dear,"  she  added,  hastily,  misin- 
terpreting Babbie's  silence,  "I  should  have  been  sorry  had 
he  taken  one  second  less.  Every  tick  of  the  clock  was  a 
gossip,  telling  me  how  he  loves  you." 

In  the  dim  light  a  face  that  begged  for  pity  was  turned 
to  Margaret. 

"He  does  love  you.  Babbie?"  she  asked,  suddenly  doubt- 
ful. 

Babbie  turned  away  her  face,  then  shook  her  head. 

"But  you  love  him?" 

Again  Babbie  shook  her  head. 

"Oh,  my  dear,"  cried  Margaret,  in  distress,  "if  this 
is  so,  are  you  not  afraid  to  marry  him?" 

She  knew  now  that  Babbie  was  crying,  but  she  did  not 
know  why  Babbie  could  not  look  her  in  the  face. 

"There  may  be  times,"  Babbie  said,  most  woful  that  she 
had  not  married  Rintoul,  "when  it  is  best  to  marry  a  man 
thoueh  we   do  not  love  him." 


222  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"You  are  wrong,  Babbie,"  Margaret  answered,  gravely; 
"if  I  know  anything  at  all,  it  is  that." 

"It  may  be  best  for  others." 

"Do  you  mean  for  one  other?"  Margaret  asked,  and  the 
girl  bowed  her  head.     "Ah,  Babbie,  you  speak  like  a  child." 

"You  do  not  understand." 

"I  do  not  need  to  be  told  the  circumstances  to  know 
this, — that  if  two  people  love  each  other,  neither  has  any 
right  to  give  the  other  up." 

Babbie  turned  impulsively  to  cast  herself  on  the  mercy 
of  Gavin's  mother,  but  no  word  could  she  say;  a  hot  tear 
fell  from  her  eyes  upon  the  coverlet,  and  then  she  looked 
at  the  door,  as  if  to  run  away. 

"But  I  have  been  too  inquisitive,"  Margaret  began;  where- 
upon Babbie  cried,  "Oh,  no,  no,  no;  you  are  very  good. 
I  have  no  one  who  cares  whether  I  do  right  or  wrong." 

"Your  parents — " 

"I  have  had  none  since  I  was  a  child." 

"It  is  the  more  reason  why  I  should  be  your  friend," 
Margaret  said,  taking  the  girl's  hand. 

"You  do  not  know  what  you  are  saying.  You  cannot  be 
my  friend." 

"Yes,  dear,  I  love  you  already.  You  have  a  good  face, 
Babbie,  as  well  as  a  beautiful  one." 

Babbie  could  remain  in  the  room  no  longer.  She  bade 
Margaret  good-night,  and  bent  forward  to  kiss  her;  then 
drew  back,  like  a  Judas,  ashamed. 

"Why  did  you  not  kiss  me  ?"  Margaret  asked  in  surprise, 
but  poor  Babbie  walked  out  of  the  room  without  answering. 

Of  what  occurred  at  the  manse  on  the  following  day, 
until  I  reached  it,  I  need  tell  little  more.  When  Babbie 
was  tending  Sam'l  Farquharson's  child  in  the  Tenements, 
she  learned  of  the  flood  in  Glen  Quharity,  and  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  congregation  had  set  ofif  to  the  assistance 
of  the  farmers;  but  fearful  as  this  made  her  for  Gavin's 
safety,  she  kept  the  new  anxiety  from  his  mother.  De- 
ceived by  another  story  of  Jean's,  Margaret  was  the  one 
happy  person  in  the  house. 

"I  believe  you  had  only  a  lover's  quarrel  with  Lord  Rintoul 
last  night,"  she  said  to  Babbie  in  the  afternoon.  "Ah, 
you  see  I  can  guess  what  is  taking  you  to  the  window  so 
often.  You  must  not  think  him  long  in  coming  for  you.  I 
can  assure  you  that  the  rain  which  keeps  my  son  from  me 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  223 


must  be  sufficiently  severe  to  separate  even  true  lovers. 
Take  an  old  woman's  example,  Babbie.  If  I  thought  the 
minister's  absence  alarming,  I  should  be  in  anguish;  but  as 
it  is,  my  mind  is  so  much  at  ease  that,  see,  I  can  thread  my 
needle." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

MARGARET,    THE    PRECENTOR,    AND    GOD    BETWEEN. 

Unless  Andrew  Luke,  who  went  to  Canada,  be  still  above 
ground,  I  am  now  the  only  survivor  of  the  few  to  whom  Lang 
Tammas  told  what  passed  in  the  manse  parlour  after  the  door 
closed  on  him  and  Margaret.  With  the  years  the  others  lost 
the  details,  but  before  I  forget  them  the  man  who  has  been 
struck  by  lightning  will  look  at  his  arm  without  remembering 
what  shrivelled  it. 

"She  was  never  the  kind  o'  woman,"  ^'^hamond  said,  "that 
a  body  need  be  nane  feared  at.  You  can  see  she  is  o'  the 
timid  sort.  I  couldna  hae  selected  a  woman  easier  to  speak 
bold  out  to,  though  I  had  ha'en  my  pick  o'  them. 

"But,  man,  she  was  so  michty  windy  o'  him.  If  he  had 
wanted  to  put  a  knife  into  her,  I  believe  that  woman  would 
just  hae  telled  him  to  take  care  no  to  cut  his  hands.  Ay,  and 
what  innocent-like  she  was !  If  she  had  heard  enough,  afore 
I  saw  her  to  make  her  uneasy,  I  could  hae  begun  at  once ;  but 
here  she  was,  shaking  my  hand  and  smiling  to  me,  so  that  aye 
when  I  tried  to  speak  I  gaed  through  ither.  Nobody  can  de- 
spise me  for  it,  I  tell  you,  mair  than  I  despise  mysel'. 

"I  thocht  to  mysel',  'Let  her  hae  her  smile  out,  Tammas 
Whamond;  it's  her  hinmost.'  Syne  wi'  shame  at  my  coward- 
liness, I  tried  to  yoke  to  my  duty  as  chief  elder  o'  the  kirk, 
and  I  said  to  her,  as  thrawn  as  I  could  speak,  'Dinna  thank 
me ;  I've  done  nothing  for  you." 

"  'I  ken  it  wasna  for  me  you  did  it,'  she  said,  'but  for  him; 
but,  oh,  Mr.  Whamond,  will  that  make  me  think  the  less  o' 
you?  He's  my  all,'  she  says,  wi'  that  smile  back  in  her  face, 
and  a  look  mixed  up  wi't  that  said  as  plain,  'and  I  need  no 
more.'  I  thocht  o'  saying  that  some  builds  their  house  upon 
the  sand,  but — dagont,  dominie,  it's  a  solemn  thing  the  pride 
mithers  has  in  their  laddies.  I  mind  aince  my  ain  mither — 
what  the  devil  are  you  glowering  at,  Andrew  Luke?  Do  you 
think  I'm  greeting? 


224  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"  'You'll  sit  down,  Mr.  Whamond/  she  says  next. 

"No,  I  winna,'  I  said,  angry-like.   'I  didna  come  here  to  sit.' 

"I  could  see  she  thocht  I  was  shy  at  being  in  the  manse 
parlour;  ay,  and  I  thocht  she  was  pleased  at  me  looking  shy. 
Weel,  she  took  my  hat  out  o'  my  hand,  and  she  put  it  on  the 
chair  at  the  door,  whaur  there's  aye  an  auld  chair  in  grand 
houses  for  the  servant  to  sit  on  at  family  exercise. 

"  'You're  a  man,  Mr.  Whamond/  says  she,  'that  the  minister 
delights  to  honour,  and  so  you'll  oblige  me  by  sitting  in  his 
own  armchair.' 

"I  saw  my  chance  at  that,"  Whamond  went  on,  "and  I  says 
to  her,  sternly,  'In  worldly  position,'  I  says,  'I'm  a  common 
man,  and  it's  no  for  the  like  o'  sic  to  sit  in  a  minister's  chair; 
but  it  has  been  God's  will/  I  says,  'to  wrap  around  me  the 
mantle  o'  chief  elder  o'  the  kirk,  and  if  the  minister  falls  awa 
f  rae  grace,  it  becomes  my  duty  to  take  his  place.' 

"If  she  had  been  looking  at  me,  she  maun  hae  grown  feared 
at  that,  and  syne  I  could  hae  gone  on  though  my  ilka  word 
was  a  knock-down  blow.  But  she  was  picking  some  things  aff 
the  chair  to  let  me  down  on't. 

"  'It's  a  pair  o'  mittens  I'm  working  for  the  minister,'  she 
says,  and  she  handed  them  to  me.  Ay,  I  tried  no  to  take  them, 
but —    Oh,  lads,  it's  queer  to  think  how  saft  I  was. 

"  'He's  no  to  ken  about  them  till  they're  finished,'  she  says, 
terrible  fond-like. 

"The  words  came  to  my  mouth,  'They'll  never  be  finished,' 
and  I  could  hae  cursed  mysel'  for  no  saying  them.  I  dinna 
ken  how  it  was,  but  there  was  something  pitiful  in  seeing  her 
take  up  the  mittens  and  begin  working  cheerily  at  one,  and 
me  kenning  all  the  time  that  they  would  never  be  finished.  I 
watched  her  fingers,  and  I  said  to  mysel',  'Another  stitch,  and 
that  maun  be  your  last.' 

"In  the  tail  o'  the  day  I  says,  'You  needna  bother;  he'll 
never  wear  them,'  and  they  sounded  sic  words  o'  doom  that  I 
rose  up  off  the  chair.  Ay,  but  she  took  me  up  wrang,  and  she 
said,  'I  see  you  have  noticed  how  careless  o'  his  ain  comforts 
he  is,  and  that  in  his  zeal  he  forgets  to  put  on  his  mittens, 
though  they  may  be  in  his  pocket  a'  the  time.  Ay,'  says  she, 
confident-like,  'but  he  winna  forget  these  mittens,  Mr.  Wha- 
mond, and  I'll  tell  you  the  reason:  it's  because  they're  his 
mother's  work.' 

"I  stamped  my  foot,  and  she  gae  me  an  apologetic  look,  and 
says,  'I  canna  help  boasting  about  his  being  so  fond  o'  me." 

"Ay,  but  here  was  me  saying  to  mysel',  'Do  your  duty. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  225 

Tammas  Whamond ;  you  sluggard,  do  your  duty,'  and  witHout 
lifting  my  een  frae  her  fingers  I  said,  sternly,  'Thie  chances 
are,'  I  said,  'that  these  mittens  will  never  be  worn  by  the 
hands  they  are  worked  for.' 

"  'You  mean,'  says  she,  'that  he'll  gie  them  awa  to  some 
ill-off  body,  as  he  gies  near  a'  thing  he  has  ?  Ay,  but  there's 
one  thing  he  never  parts  wi',  and  that's  my  work.  There's  a 
young  lady  in  the  manse  the  now,'  says  she,  'that  offered  to 
finish  the  mittens  for  me,  but  he  would  value  them  less  if  I 
let  ony  other  body  put  a  stitch  into  them.' 

"I  thocht  to  mysel',  'Tammas  Whamond,  the  Lord  has 
opened  a  door  to  you,  and  you'll  be  disgraced  for  ever  if  you 
dinna  walk  straucht  in.'  So  I  rose  again,  and  I  says,  boldly, 
this  time,  'Whaur's  that  young  leddy?  I  hae  something  to 
say  to  her  that  canna  be  kept  waiting.' 

"  'She's  up  the  stair,'  she  says,  surprised,  'but  you  canna 
ken  her,  Mr.  Whamond,   for  she  just  came  last  nicht.' 

"  'I  ken  mair  o'  her  than  you  think,'  says  I ;  'I  ken  what 
brocht  her  here,  and  ken  wha  she  thinks  she  is  to  be  mar- 
ried to,  and  I've  come  to  tell  her  that  she'll  never  get  him.' 

''  'How   no  ?'    she   said,   amazed-like. 

"  'Because,'  said  I,  wi'  my  teeth  thegither,  'he  is  already 
married.' 

"Lads,  I  stood  waiting  to  see  her  fall,  and  when  she 
didna  fall  I  just  waited  langer,  thinking  she  was  slow  in 
taking  it  a'  in. 

''  'I  see  you  ken  wha  she  is,'  she  said,  looking  at  me, 
'and  yet  I  canna  credit  your  news.' 

"  'They're  true,'  I  cries. 

"  'Even  if  they  are,'  says  she,  considering,  'it  may  be 
the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  baith  o'  them.' 

"I  sank  back  in  the  chair  in  fair  bewilderment,  for  I  didna 
ken  at  that  time,  as  v/e  a'  ken  now,  that  she  was  thinking 
o'  the  earl  when  I  was  thinking  o'  her  son.  Dominie,  it 
looked  to  me  as  if  the  Lord  had  opened  a  door  to  me,  and 
syne  shut  it  in  my   face. 

"Syne  wi'  me  sitting  there  in  a  kind  o'  awe  o'  the  woman's 
simpleness,  she  began  to  tell  me  what  the  minister  was  like 
when  he  was  a  bairn,  and  I  was  saying  a'  the  time  to  mysel', 
'You're  chief  elder  o'  the  kirk,  Tammas  Whamond,  and  you 
maun  speak  out  the  next  time  she  stops  to  draw  breath.' 
They  were  terrible  sma',  common  things  she  telled  me,  sic 
as  near  a'  mithers  minds  about  their  bairns,  but  the  kind  o' 
holy  way  she  said  them  drove  my  words  down  my  throat,  like 


226  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

a 

as  if  I  was  some  infidel  man  trying  to  break  out  wi'  blas- 
phemy in  a  kirk. 

"  'I'll  let  you  see  something,'  says  she,  'that  I  ken  will 
interest  you.'  She  brocht  it  out  o'  a  drawer,  and  what  do 
you  think  it  was?  As  sure  as  death  it  was  no  more  than 
some  o'  his  hair  when  he  was  a  litlin,  and  it  was  tied  up 
sic  carefully  in  paper  that  you  would  hae  thocht  it  was  some 
valuable  thing. 

'"Mr.  Whamond,'  she  says,  solemnly,  'you've  come  thrice 
to  the  manse  to  keep  me  frae  being  uneasy  about  my  son's 
absence,  and  you  was  the  chief  instrument  under  God  in 
bringing  him  to  Thrums,  and  I'll  gie  you  a  little  o' that  hair.' 

"Dagont,  what  did  I  care  about  his  hair?  and  yet  to  see 
her  fondling  it !  I  says  to  mysel',  'Mrs.  Dishart,'  I  says  to 
mysel',  'I  was  the  chief  instrument  under  God  in  bringing 
him  to  Thrums,  and  I've  come  here  to  tell  you  that  I'm  to 
be  the  chief  instrument  under  God  in  driving  him  out  o't.' 
Ay,  but  when  I  focht  to  bring  out  these  words,  my  mouth 
snecked  like  a  box. 

"  'Dinna  gie  me  his  hair,'  was  a*  I  could  say,  and  I 
wouldna  take  it  frae  her ;  but  she  laid  it  in  my  hand,  and — ■ 
and  syne  what  could  I  do?  Ay,  it's  easy  to  speak  about  thae 
things  now,  and  to  wonder  how  I  could  hae  so  disgraced  the 
position  o'  chief  elder  o'  the  kirk,  but  I  tell  you  I  was  near 
greeting  for  the  woman.  Call  me  names,  dominie;  I  deserve 
them   all." 

I  did  not  call  Whamond  names  for  being  reluctant  to  break 
Margaret's  heart.  Here  is  a  confession  I  may  make.  Some- 
times I  say  my  prayers  at  night  in  a  hurry,  going  on  my 
knees  indeed,  but  with  as  little  reverence  as  I  take  a  drink 
of  water  before  jumping  into  bed,  and  for  the  same  reason, 
because  it  is  my  nightly  habit.  I  am  only  pattering  words 
I  have  by  heart  to  a  chair  then,  and  should  be  as  well  em- 
ployed writing  a  comic  Bible.  At  such  times  I  pray  for  the 
earthly  well-being  of  the  precentor,  though  he  has  been  dead 
for  many  years. 

"She  said  to  me,"  Whamond  continued,  "that  the  women 
o'  the  congregation  would  be  fond  to  handle  the  hair.  Could 
I  tell  her  that  the  women  was  waur  agin  him  than  the  men? 
I  shivered  to  hear  her. 

"  '.Syne  when  they're  a'  sitting  breathless  listening  to  his 
preaching,'  she  says,  'they'll  be  able  to  picture  him  as  a  bairn, 
just  as  I  often  do  in  the  kirk  mysel'.' 

"Andrew  Luke,  you're  sneering  at  me,  but  I  tell  you  if 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  22T 

you  had  been  there  and  had  begun  to  say,  'He'll  preach  in 
our  kirk   no  more/   I   would  hae  struck  you. 

"She  says,  'Oh,  Mr.  Whamond,  there's  times  in  the  kirk 
when  he  is  praying,  and  the  glow  on  his  face  is  hardly 
mortal,  so  that  I  fall  a-shaking,  wi'  a  mixture  o'  fear  and 
pride,  me  being  his  mother ;  and  sinful  though  I  am  to  say  it, 
I  canna  help  thinking  at  sic  times  that  I  ken  what  the  mother 
o'  Jesus  had  in  her  heart  when  she  found  Him  in  the  temple.' 

"Dominie,  it's  sax  and  twenty  years  since  I  was  made  an 
elder  o'  the  kirk.  I  mind  the  day  as  if  it  was  yestreen.  Mr. 
Carfrae  made  me  walk  hame  wi'  him,  and  he  took  me  into 
the  manse  parlour,  and  he  set  me  in  that  very  chair.  It  was 
the  first  time  I  was  ever  in  the  manse.  Ay,  he  little  thocht 
that  day  in  his  earnestness,  and  I  little  thocht  mysel'  in  the 
pride  o'  my  lusty  youth,  that  the  time  was  coming  when  I 
would  swear  in  that  reverenced  parlour.  I  say  swear,  domi- 
nie, for  when  she  had  finished  I  jumped  to  my  feet,  and  I 
cried,  'Hell !'  and  I  lifted  up  my  hat.    And  I  was  chief  elder. 

"She  fell  back  frae  my  oath,"  he  said,  "and  syne  she  took 
my  sleeve  and  speired,  'What  has  come  ower  you,  Mr.  Wha- 
mond?    Hae  you  onything  on  your  mind?' 

"  'I've  sin  on  it,'  I  roared  at  her.  'I  have  neglect  o'  duty 
on  it.  I  am  one  o'  them  that  cries  "Lord,  Lord,"  and  yet 
do  not  the  things  which  He  commands.  He  has  pointed 
out  the  way  to  me,  and  I  hinna  followed  it.' 

"'What  is  it  you  hinna  done  that  you  should  hae  done?' 
she  said.    'Oh,  Mr.  Whamond,  if  you  want  my  help,  it's  yours.' 

"  'Your  son's  a'  the  earth  to  you,'  I  cried,  'but  my  elder- 
ship's as  muckle  to  me.  Sax  and  twenty  years  hae  I  been 
an  elder,  and  now  I  maun  gie  it  up.' 

"  'Wha  says  that  ?'  she  speirs. 

"  'I  say  it,'  I  cried.  'I've  shirked  my  duty.  I  gie  up 
my  eldership  now.  Tammas  Whamond  is  no  langer  an  elder 
o'  the  kirk;'  ay,  and  I  was  chief  elder. 

"Dominie,  I  think  she  began  to  say  that  when  the  minister 
came  hame  he  wouldna  accept  my  resignation,  but  I  paid 
no  need  to  her.  You  ken  what  ■s^as  the  sound  that  keeped 
my  ears  frae  her  words;  it  was  the  sound  o'  a  machine 
coming  yont  the  Tenements.  You  ken  v/hat  was  the  sicht 
that  made  me  glare  through  the  window  instead  o'  looking 
at  her;  it  was  the  sicht  o'  Mr.  Dishart  in  the  machine.  I 
couldna  speak,  but  I  got  my  body  atween  her  and  the  window, 
for  I  heard  shouting,  and  I  couldna  doubt  that  it  was  the  folk 
tursing  him. 


228  THE  LITTLE  INHNISTER 

"But  she  heard  too,  she  heard  too,  and  she  squeezed  by 
me  to  the  window.  I  couldna  look  out;  I  just  walked  saft- 
like  to  the  parlour  door,  but  afore  I  reached  it  she  cried: 

"  ^t's  my  son  come  back,  and  see  how  fond  o'  him  they 
are !  They  are  running  at  the  side  o'  the  machine,  and  the 
laddies  are  tossing  their  bonnets  in  the  air.' 

"  'God  help  you,  woman  !'  I  said  to  mysel',  'it  canna  be 
bonnets, — it's  stanes  and  divits  mair  likely  that  they're  fling- 
ing at  him.'  Syne  I  creeped  out  o'  the  manse.  Dominie,  you 
mind  I  passed  you  in  the  kitchen,  and  didna  say  a  word  ?" 

Yes,  i  saw  the  precentor  pass  through  the  kitchen,  with 
such  a  face  on  him  as  no  man  ever  saw  him  wear  again. 
Since  Tammas  Whamond  died  we  have  had  to  enlarge  the 
Thrums  cemetery  twice;  so  it  can  matter  not  at  all  to  him. 
and  but  little  to  me,  what  you  who  read  think  of  him.  All 
his  life  children  ran  from  him.  He  was  the  dourest,  the 
most  unlovable  man  in  Thrums.  But  may  my  right  hand 
wither,  and  may  my  tongue  be  cancer-bitten,  and  may  my 
mind  be  gone  into  a  dry  rot  before  I  forget  what  he  did 
for  me  and  mine  that  day ! 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

RAIN MIST THE   JAWS. 

To  this  day  we  argue  in  the  glen  about  the  sound  mis- 
taken by  many  of  us  for  the  firing  of  the  Spittal  cannon, 
some  calling  it  thunder  and  others  the  tearing  of  trees 
in  the  torrent.  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  roll  of  stones 
into  the  Ouharity  from  Silver  Hill,  of  which  a  corner  has 
been  missing  since  that  day.  Silver  Hill  is  all  stones, 
as  if  creation  had  been  riddled  there,  and  in  the  sun  the 
mica  on  them  shines  like  many  pools  of  water. 

At  the  roar,  as  they  thought,  of  the  cannon,  the  farmers 
looked  up  from  their  struggle  with  the  flood  to  say,  "That's 
Rintoul  married,"  as  clocks  pause  simultaneously  to  strike 
the  hour.  Then  every  one  in  the  Glen  save  Gavin  and 
myself  was  done  with  Rintoul.  Before  the  hills  had  answered 
the  noise,  Gavin  was  on  his  way  to  the  Spittal.  The  dog 
must  have  been  ten  minutes  in  overtaking  him,  yet  he  main- 
tained afterward  that  it  was  with  him  from  the  start. 
From  this  we  see  that  the  shock  he  had  got  carried  him 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  229 

some  distance  before  he  knew  that  he  had  left  the  school- 
house.  It  also  gave  him  a  new  strength,  that  happily  lasted 
longer  than  his  daze  of  mind. 

Gavin  moved  northward  quicker  than  I  came  south,  climb- 
ing over  or  wading  through  his  obstacles,  while  I  went 
round  mine.  After  a  time,  too,  the  dog  proved  useful, 
for  on  discovering  that  it  was  going  homeward  it  took  the 
lead,  and  several  times  drew  him  to  the  right  road  to  the 
Spittal  by  refusing  to  accompany  him  on  the  wrong  road. 
Yet  in  two  hours  he  had  walked  perhaps  nine  miles  with- 
out being  four  miles  nearer  the  Spittal.  In  that  flood  the 
glen  milestones  were  three  miles  apart. 

For  some  time  he  had  been  following  the  dog  doubtfully, 
for  it  seemed  to  be  going  too  near  the  river.  When  they 
struck  a  cart-track,  however,  he  concluded  rightly  that  they 
were  nearing  a  bridge.  His  faith  in  his  guide  was  again 
tested  before  they  had  been  many  minutes  on  this  sloppy 
road.  The  dog  stopped,  whined,  looked  irresolute,  and  then 
ran  to  the  right,  disappearing  into  the  mist  in  an  instant. 
He  shouted  to  it  to  come  back,  and  was  surprised  to  hear  a 
whistle  in  reply.  This  was  sufficient  to  make  him  dash 
after  the  dog,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  he  stopped  abruptly 
by  the  side  of  a  shepherd. 

"Have  you  brocht  it?"  the  man  cried,  almost  into  Gavin's 
ear;  yet  the  roar  of  the  water  was  so  tremendous  that 
the  words  came  faintly,  as  if  from  a  distance.  "Wae  is  me; 
is  it  only  you,  Mr.  Dishart?" 

"Is  it  only  you !"  No  one  in  the  glen  would  have  ad- 
dressed a  minister  thus  except  in  a  matter  of  life  or  death, 
and  Gavin  knew  it. 

"He'll  be  ower  late,"  the  shepherd  exclaimed,  rubbing  his 
hands  together  in  distress.  "I'm  speaking  o'  Whinbusses' 
grieve.    He  has  run  for  ropes,  but  he'll  be  ower  late." 

"Is  there  some  one  in  danger?"  asked  Gavin,  who  stood, 
he  knew  not  where,   with   this  man,   enveloped   in  mist. 

"Is  there  no?    Look!" 

"There  is  nothing  to  be  seen  but  mist;  where  are  we?" 

"We're  on  the  high  bank  o'  the  Quharity.  Take  care, 
man;  you  was  stepping  ower  into  the  roaring  water.  Lie 
down  and  tell  me  if  he's  there  yet.  Maybe  I  just  think 
that  I  see  him,  for  the  sicht  is  painted  on  my  een." 

Gavin  lay  prone  and  peered  at  the  river,  but  the  mist 
came  up  to  his  eyes.  He  only  knew  that  the  river  was 
below  from  the  sound. 


230  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Is  there  a  man  down  there?"  he  asked,  shuddering. 

"There  was  a  minute  syne;  on  a  bit  island." 

"Why  does  he  not  speak?" 

"He  is  senseless.  Dinna  move;  the  mist's  clearing,  and 
you'll  see  if  he's  there  syne.  The  mist  has  been  lifting  and 
falling  that  way  ilka  minute  since  me  and  the  grieve  saw 
him." 

The  mist  did  not  rise.  It  only  shook  like  a  blanket,  and 
then  again  remained  stationary.  But  in  that  movement 
Gavin  had  seen  twice,  first  incredulously,  and  then  with 
conviction. 

"Shepherd,"  he  said,  rising,  "it  is  Lord  Rintoul." 

"Ay,  it's  him;  and  you  saw  his  feet  was  in  the  water. 
They  were  dry  when  the  grieve  left  me.  Mr.  Dishart,  the 
ground  he  is  on  is  being  washed  awa  bit  by  bit.  I  tell  you, 
the  flood's  greedy  for  him,  and  it'll  hae  him —  Look,  did 
you  see  him  again?" 

"Is  he  living?" 

"We  saw  him  move.     Hst!     Was  that  a  cry?" 

It  was  only  the  howling  of  the  dog,  which  had  recognised 
its  master,  and  was  peering  over  the  bank,  the  body  quiver- 
ing to  jump,  but  the  legs  restless  with  indecision. 

"If  we  were  down  there,"  Gavin  said,  "we  could  hold 
him  secure  till  rescue  comes.     It  is  no  great  jump." 

"How  far  would  you  make  it?     I  saw  him  again!" 

"It  looked  farther  that  time." 

"That's  it !  Sometimes  the  ground  he  is  on  looks  so  near 
that  you  think  you  could  almost  drop  on  it,  and  the  next 
time  it's  yards  and  yards  awa.  I've  stood  ready  for  the 
spring,  Mr.  Dishart,  a  dozen  times,  but  I  aye  sickened.  I 
daurna  do  it.  Look  at  the  dog;  just  when  it's  starting  to 
jump,  it  pulls  itsel'  back." 

As  if  it  had  heard  the  shepherd,  the  dog  jumped  at  that 
instant. 

"It  sprang  too  far,"  Gavin  said. 

"It  didna  spring  far  enough." 

They  waited,  and  presently  the  mist  thinned  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  it  was  being  drawn  out.  They  saw  the  earl, 
but  there  was  no  dog. 

"Poor  brute,"  said  the  shepherd,  and  looked  with  awe  at 
Gavin. 

"Rintoul  is  slipping  into  the  water,"  Gavin  answered.  "You 
won't  jump?" 

"No,  I'm  wae  for  him,  and — " 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  231 

"Then  I  will,"  Gavin  was  about  to  say,  but  the  shepherd 
continued,  "And  him  only  married  twa  hours  syne." 

That  kept  the  words  in  Gavin's  mouth  for  half  a  minute, 
and  then  he  spoke  them. 

"Dinna  think  o't,"  cried  the  shepherd,  taking  him  by  the 
coat.  "The  ground  he  is  on  is  slippery.  I've  flung  a  dozen 
stanes  at  it,  and  them  that  hit  it  slithered  off.  Though  you 
landed  in  the  middle  o't,  you  would  slide  into  the  water." 

"He  shook  himsel'  free  o'  me,"  the  shepherd  told  after- 
ward, "and  I  saw  him  bending  down  and  measuring  the 
distance  wi'  his  een  as  cool  as  if  he  was  calculating  a  drill 
o'  tatties.  Syne  I  saw  his  lips  moving  in  prayer.  It  wasna 
spunk  he  needed  to  pray  for,  though.  Next  minute  there 
was  me,  my  very  arms  prigging  wi'  him  to  think  better  o't, 
and  him  standing  ready  to  loup,  his  knees  bent,  and  not  a 
tremble  in  them.  The  mist  lifted,  and  I —  Lads,  I  couldna 
gie  a  look  to  the  earl.  Mr.  Dishart  jumped;  I  hardly  saw 
him,  but  I  kent.  I  kent,  for  I  was  on  the  bank  alane. 
What  did  I  do?  I  flung  mysel'  down  in  a  sweat,  and  if 
een  could  bore  mist,  mine  would  hae  done  it.  I  thocht  I 
heard  the  minister's  death-cry,  and  may  I  be  struck  if  I 
iinna  believe  now  that  it  was  a  skirl  o'  my  ain.  After 
that  there  was  no  sound  but  the  jaw  o'  the  water;  and  I 
prayed,  but  no  to  God,  to  the  mist  to  rise,  and  after  an 
awful  time  it  rose,  and  I  saw  the  minister  was  safe ;  he 
had  pulled  the  earl  into  the  middle  o'  the  bit  island,  and 
was  rubbing  him  back  to  consciousness.  I  sweat  when  I 
ijiink  o't  yet. 

"Though  it  seemed  as  lang  time,"  the  shepherd  says,  "as 
I  could  hae  run  up  a  hill  in,  I  dinna  suppose  it  was  many 
minutes  afore  I  saw  Rintoul  opening  and  shutting  his  een. 
The  next  glint  I  had  o'  them  they  were  speaking  to  ane 
another;  ay,  and  mair  than  speaking.  They  were  quarrelling. 
I  couldna  hear  their  words,  but  there  was  a  moment  when  I 
thocht  they  were  to  grapple.  Lads,  the  memory  o'  that'll 
hing  about  my  death-bed.  There  was  twa  men,  edicated  to 
the  highest  pitch,  ane  a  lord  and  the  other  a  minister,  and 
the  flood  was  taking  awa  a  mouthful  o'  their  footing  ilka 
minute,  and  the  jaws  o'  destruction  was  gaping  for  them, 
and  yet  they  were  near  fechting.  We  ken  now  it  was 
about  a  woman.     Ay,  but  does  that  make  it  less  awful?" 

No,  that  did  not  make  it  less  awful.  It  was  even  awful 
that  Gavin's  first  words  when  Rintoul  opened  his  eyes  and 
closed  them  hastily  were,  "Where   is  she?"     The  earl  did 


232  THE  LITTLE  ^MINISTER 

not  answer;  indeed,  for  the  moment  the  words  had  no  mean- 
ing to  him. 

"How  did  I  come  here?"  he  asked,  feebly. 

"You  should  know  better  than  I.     Where  is  my  wife?" 

"I  remember  now,"  Rintoul  repeated  several  times.  "Yes, 
I  had  left  the  Spittal  to  look  for  you, — you  were  so  long  in 
coming.     How  did  I  find  you  ?" 

"It  was  I  who  found  you,"  Gavin  answered.  "You  must 
have  been  swept  away  by  the  flood." 

"And  you,  too?" 

In  a  few  words  Gavin  told  how  he  came  to  be  beside  the 
earl. 

"I  suppose  they  will  say  you  have  saved  my  life,"  was 
Rintoul's  commentary. 

"It  is  not  saved  yet.  If  help  does  not  come,  we  shall 
be  dead  men  in  an  hour.  What  have  you  done  with  my 
wife  ?" 

Rintoul  ceased  to  listen  to  him,  and  shouted  sums  of 
money  to  the  shepherd,  who  shook  his  head  and  bawled  an 
answer  that  neither  Gavin  nor  the  earl  heard.  Across  that 
thundering  water  only  Gavin's  voice  could  carry,  the  most 
powerful  ever  heard  in  a  Thrums  pulpit,  the  one  voice  that 
could  be  heard  all  over  the  Commonty  during  the  time  of  the 
tent-preaching.  Yet  he  never  roared,  as  some  preachers  do 
of  whom  we  say,  "Ah,  if  they  could  hear  the  little  minister's 
word !" 

Gavin  caught  the  gesticulating  earl  by  the  sleeve  and  said, 
"Another  man  has  gone  for  ropes.  Now,  listen  to  me ; 
how  dared  you  go  through  a  marriage  ceremony  with  her, 
knowing  her  already  to  be  my  wife?" 

Rintoul  did  listen  this  time. 

"How  do  you  know  I  married  her?"  he  asked,  sharply. 

"I  heard  the  cannon." 

Now  the  earl  understood,  and  the  shadow  on  his  face 
shook  and  lifted,  and  his  teeth  gleamed.  His  triumph  might 
be  short-lived,  but  he  would  enjoy  it  while  he  could. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  picking  the  pebbles  for  his  sling 
with  care,  "you  must  know  that  I  could  not  have  married  her 
against  her  will.  The  frolic  on  the  hill  amused  her,  but  she 
feared  you  might  think  it  serious,  and  so  pressed  me  to 
proceed  with  her  marriage  to-day  despite  the  flood." 

This  was  the  point  at  which  the  shepherd  saw  the  minister 
raise  his  fist.     It  fell,  however,  without  striking. 

"Do  you  really  think  that  I  could  doubt  her?"  Gavin  said. 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  233 

compassionately,   and   for   the   second   time   in  twenty-four 
hours  the  earl  learned  that  he  did  not  know  what  love  is. 

For  a  full  minute  they  had  forgotten  where  they  were. 
Now,  again,  the  water  seemed  to  break  loose,  so  that  both 
remembered  their  danger  simultaneously  and  looked  up.  The 
mist  parted  for  long  enough  to  show  them  that  where  had 
only  been  the  shepherd  was  now  a  crowd  of  men,  with  here 
and  there  a  woman.  Before  the  mist  again  came  between 
the  minister  had  recognised  many  members  of  his  con- 
gregation. 

In  his  unsuccessful  attempt  to  reach  Whinbusses,  the 
grieve  had  met  the  relief  party  from  Thrums.  Already  the 
weavers  had  helped  Waster  Lunny  to  stave  off  ruin,  and 
they  were  now  on  their  way  to  Whinbusses,  keeping  to- 
gether through  fear  of  mist  and  water.  Every  few  minutes 
Snecky  Hobart  rang  his  bell  to  bring  in  stragglers. 

"Follow  me,"  was  all  the  panting  grieve  could  say  at  first, 
but  his  agitation  told  half  his  story.  They  went  with  him 
patiently,  only  stopping  once,  and  then  excitedly,  for  they 
came  suddenly  on  Rob  Dow.  Rob  was  still  lying  a  prisoner 
beneath  the  tree,  and  the  grieve  now  remembered  that  he 
had  fallen  over  this  tree,  and  neither  noticed  the  man  under 
it  nor  been  noticed  by  the  man.  Fifty  hands  released  poor 
Dow,  and  two  men  were  commissioned  to  bring  him  along 
slowly  while  the  others  hurried  to  the  rescue  of  the  earl. 
They  were  amazed  to  learn  from  the  shepherd  that  Mr. 
Dishart  also  was  in  danger,  and  after  "Is  there  a  woman  wi' 
him  ?"  some  cried,  "He'll  get  off  cheap  wi'  drowning,"  and 
"It's  the  judgment  o'  God." 

The  island  on  which  the  two  men  stood  was  now  little 
bigger  than  the  round  tables  common  in  Thrums,  and  its 
centre  was  some  feet  farther  from  the  bank  than  when 
Gavin  jumped.  A  woman,  looking  down  at  it,  sickened,  and 
would  have  toppled  into  the  water,  had  not  John  Spens 
clutched  her.  Others  were  so  stricken  with  awe  that  they 
forgot  they  had  hands. 

Peter  Tosh,  the  elder,  cast  a  rope  many  times,  but  it 
would  not  carry.  The  one  end  was  then  weighted  with  a 
heavy  stone,  and  the  other  tied  round  the  waists  of  two 
men.  But  the  force  of  the  river  had  been  underestimated. 
The  stone  fell  short  into  the  torrent,  which  rushed  off 
with  it  so  furiously  that  the  men  were  flung  upon  their  faces 
and  trailed  to  the  verge  of  the  precipice.     A  score  of  per- 


234  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

— — »^^«^^^i— ^^-i^^— — — — — ^™^— ^i— — — — ■"^^— ^^^^i— ^— — ^— iw 

sons  sprang  to  their  rescue,  and  the  rope  snapped.  There 
was  only  one  other  rope,  and  its  fate  was  not  dissimilar. 
This  time  the  stone  fell  into  the  water  beyond  the  island, 
and  immediately  rushed  down  the  stream.  Gavin  seized  the 
rope,  but  it  pressed  against  his  body,  and  would  have  pushed 
him  off  his  feet  had  not  Tosh  cut  it.  The  trunk  of  the 
tree  that  had  fallen  on  Rob  Dow  was  next  dragged  to  the 
bank  and  an  endeavour  made  to  form  a  sloping  bridge 
of  it.  The  island,  however,  was  now  soft  and  unstable,  and, 
though  the  trunk  was  successfully  lowered,  it  only  knocked 
lumps  off  the  island,  and  finally  it  had  to  be  let  go,  as 
the  weavers  could  not  pull  it  back.  It  splashed  into  the 
water,  and  was  at  once  whirled  out  of  sight.  Some  of  the 
oarty  on  the  bank  began  hastily  to  improvise  a  rope  of  cravats 
and  the  tags  of  the  ropes  still  left,  but  the  mass  stood  help- 
less and  hopeless. 

"You  may  v\^onder  that  we  could  have  stood  still,  waiting 
io  see  the  last  o'  them,"  Birse,  the  post,  has  said  to  me  in 
ihe  schoolhouse,  "but,  dominie,  I  couldna  hae  moved,  magre 
my  neck.  I'm  a  hale  man,  but  if  this  minute  we  was  to 
hear  the  voice  o'  the  Almighty  saying  solemnly,  'Afore  the 
clock  strikes  again,  Birse,  the  post,  will  fall  dov^^n  dead 
of  heart  disease,'  what  do  you  think  you  would  do?  I'll 
tell  you.  You  would  stand  whaur  you  are,  and  stare,  tongue- 
tied,  at  me  till  I  dropped.  How  do  I  ken?  By  the  teach- 
ing o'  that  nicht.  Ay,  but  there's  a  mair  important  thing 
I  dinna  ken,  and  that  is  whether  I  would  be  palsied  wi' 
fear  like  the  earl,  or  face  death  with  the  calmness  o'  the 
minister." 

Indeed,  the  contrast  between  Rintoul  and  Gavin  was  now 
impressive.  When  Tosh  signed  that  the  weavers  had  done 
their  all  and  failed,  the  two  men  looked  in  each  other's 
faces,  and  Gavin's  face  was  firm  and  the  earl's  working  con- 
vulsively. The  people  had  given  up  attempting  to  com- 
municate with  Gavin  save  by  signs,  for  though  they  heard 
his  sonorous  voice,  when  he  pitched  it  at  them,  they  saw 
that  he  caught  few  word^  of  theirs.  "He  heard  our  skirls," 
Birse  said,  "but  couldna  grip  the  words  ony  mair  than 
we  could  hear  the  earl.  And  yet  we  screamed,  and  the 
minister  didna.  I've  heard  o'  Highlandmen  wi'  the  same 
gift,  so  that  they  could  be  heard  across  a  glen." 

"We  must  prepare  for  death,"  Gavin  said,  solemnly,  to  the 
earl,  "and  it  is  for  your  own  sake  that  I  again  ask  you  to 
tell   me  the  truth.     Worldly  matters  are  nothing  to  either 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  235 

of  us  now,  but  I  implore  you  not  to  carry  a  lie  into  your 
Maker's  presence." 

"I  will  not  give  up  hope,"  was  all  Rintoul's  answer,  and 
he  again  tried  to  pierce  the  mist  with  offers  of  reward.  After 
that  he  became  doggedly  silent,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  ground 
at  his  feet.  I  have  a  notion  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  confess  the  truth  about  Babbie  when  the  water  had  eaten 
the  island  as  far  as  the  point  at  which  he  was  now  looking. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

END  OF  THE  TWENTY-FOUR   HOURS. 

Out  of  the  mist  came  the  voice  of  Gavin,  clear  and  strong : 

"If  you  hear  me,  hold  up  your  hands  as  a  sign." 

They  heard,  and  none  wondered  at  his  voice  crossing  the 
chasm  while  theirs  could  not.  When  the  mist  cleared,  they 
were  seen  to  have  done  as  he  bade  them.  Many  hands 
remained  up  for  a  time  because  the  people  did  not  remember 
to  bring  them  down,  so  great  was  the  awe  that  had  fallen 
on  all,  as  if  the  Lord  was  near. 

Gavin  took  his  watch  from  his  pocket,  and  he  said : 

"I  am  to  fling  this  to  you.  You  will  give  it  to  Mr.  Ogilvy, 
the  schoolmaster,  as  a  token  of  the  love  I  bear  him." 

The  watch  was  caught  by  James  Langlands,  and  handed 
to  Peter  Tosh,  the  chief  elder  present. 

"To  Mr.  Ogilvy,"  Gavin  continued,  "you  will  also  give 
the  chain.  You  will  take  it  off  my  neck  when  you  find  the 
body. 

"To  each  of  my  elders,  and  to  Hendry  Munn,  kirk  officer, 
and  to  my  servant  Jean,  I  leave  a  book,  and  they  will  go 
to  my  study  and  choose  it  for  themselves. 

"I  also  leave  a  book  for  Nanny  Webster,  and  I  charge 
you,  Peter  Tosh,  to  take  it  to  her,  though  she  be  not  a 
member  of  my  church. 

"The  pictorial  Bible  with  'To  my  son  on  his  sixth  birth- 
day' on  it,  I  bequeath  to  Rob  Dow.  No,  my  mother  will 
want  to  keep  that.  I  give  to  Rob  Dow  my  Bible  with  the 
brass  clasp. 

"It  is  my  wish  that  every  family  in  the  congregation  should 
have  some  little  thing  to  remember  me  by.  This  you  will 
tell  my  mother. 


236  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"To  my  successor  I  leave  whatsoever  of  my  papers  he 
may  think  of  any  value  to  him,  including  all  my  notes  on 
Revelation,  of  which  I  meant  to  make  a  book.  I  hope  he 
will  never  sing  the  paraphrases. 

"If  Mr.  Carfrae's  health  permits,  you  will  ask  him  to 
preach  the  funeral  sermon;  but  if  he  be  too  frail,  then  you 
will  ask  Mr.  Trail,  under  whom  I  sat  in  Glasgow.  The 
illustrated  'Pilgrim's  Progress'  on  the  drawers  in  my  bed- 
room belongs  to  Mr.  Trail,  and  you  will  return  it  to  him 
with  my  affection  and  compliments. 

"I  owe  five  shillings  to  Hendry  Munn  for  mending  my 
boots,  and  a  smaller  sum  to  Baxter,  the  mason.  I  have 
two  pounds  belonging  to  Rob  Dow,  who  asked  me  to  take 
charge  of  them  for  him.  I  owe  no  other  man  anything, 
and  this  you  will  bear  in  mind  if  Matthew  Cargill,  the 
flying  stationer,  again  brings  forward  a  claim  for  the 
price  of  Whiston's  'Josephus,'  which  I  did  not  buy  from 
him. 

"Mr.  Moncur,  of  Aberbrothick,  had  agreed  to  assist  me 
at  the  Sacrament,  and  will  doubtless  still  lend  his  services. 
Mr.  Carfrae  or  Mr.  Trail  will  take  my  place  if  my  suc- 
cessor is  not  elected  by  that  time.  The  Sacrament  cups 
are  in  the  vestry  press,  of  which  you  will  find  the  key 
beneath  the  clock  in  my  parlour.  The  tokens  are  in  the 
topmost  drawer  of  my  bedroom. 

"The  weekly  prayer-meeting  will  be  held  as  usual  on 
Thursday  at  eight  o'clock,  and  the  elders  will  officiate. 

"It  is  my  wish  that  the  news  of  my  death  be  broken  to 
my  mother  by  Mr.  Ogilvy,  the  schoolmaster,  and  by  no 
other.  You  will  say  to  him  that  this  is  my  solemn  request, 
and  that  I  bid  him  discharge  it  without  faltering  and  be 
of  good  cheer. 

"But  if  Mr.  Ogilvy  be  not  now  alive,  the  news  of  my 
death  will  be  broken  to  my  mother  by  my  beloved  wife. 
Last  night  I  was  married  on  the  hill,  over  the  tongs,  but 
with  the  sanction  of  God,  to  her  whom  you  call  the  Egyptian, 
and  despite  what  has  happened  since  then,  of  which  you 
will  soon  have  knowledge,  I  here  solemnly  declare  that  she 
is  my  wife,  and  you  will  seek  for  her  at  the  Spittal  or 
elsewhere  till  you  find  her,  and  you  will  tell  her  to  go  to 
my  mother  and  remain  with  her  always,  for  these  are  the 
commands  of  her  husband." 

It  was  then  that  Gavin  paused,  for  Lord  Rintoul  had  that 
to   say  to   him   which  no  longer  could   be   kept  back.     All 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  237 


the  women  were  crying  sore,  and  also  some  men  whose  eyes 
had  been  dry  at  the  coffining  of  their  children. 

"Now  I  ken,"  said  Cruickshanks,  who  had  been  an  atheist, 
"that  it's  only  the  fool  wha  says  in  his  heart,  'There  is  no 
God.'  " 

Another  said,  "That's  a  man." 

Another  said,  "That  man  has  a  religion  to  last  him  all 
through." 

A  fourth  said,  "Behold,  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at 
hand." 

A  fifth  said,  "That's  our  minister.  He's  the  minister  o' 
the  Auld  Licht  kirk  o'  Thrums.  Woe  is  me,  we're  to  lose 
him." 

Many  cried,  "Our  hearts  was  set  hard  against  him.  O 
Lord,  are  You  angry  wi'  Your  servants  that  You're  taking 
him  frae  us  just  when  we  ken  what  he  is?" 

Gavin  did  not  hear  them,  and  again  he  spoke : 

"My  brethren,  God  is  good.  I  have  just  learned  that 
my  wife  is  with  my  dear  mother  at  the  manse.  I  leave  them 
in  your  care  and  in  His." 

No  more  he  said  of  Babbie,  for  the  island  was  become  very 
small. 

"The  Lord  calls  me  hence.  It  is  only  for  a  little  time  I 
have  been  with  you,  and  now  I  am  going  away,  and  you 
will  know  me  no  more.  Too  great  has  been  my  pride  because 
I  was  your  minister,  but  He  who  sent  me  to  labour  among 
you  is  slow  to  v/rath;  and  He  ever  bore  in  mind  that  you 
were  my  first  charge.  My  people,  I  must  say  to  you, 
'Farewell.'" 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  his  voice  faltered,  and  wanting 
to  go  on  he  could  not.  "Let  us  read,"  he  said,  quickly,  "in 
the  Word  of  God  in  the  fourteenth  of  Matthew,  from  the 
twenty-eighth  verse." 

He  repeated  these  four  verses : 

"  'And  Peter  answered  Him  and  said,  Lord,  if  it  be 
Thou,  bid  me  come  unto  Thee  on  the  water. 

"  'And  He  said,  Come.  And  when  Peter  was  come  down 
out  of  the  ship,  he  walked  on  the  water,  to  go  to  Jesus. 

"  'But  when  he  saAv  the  wind  boisterous,  he  was  afraid;  and 
beginning  to  sink,  he  cried,  saying,  Lord,  save  me. 

"  'And  immediately  Jesus  stretched  forth  His  hand  and 
caught  him,  and  said  unto  him,  O  thou  of  little  faith,  where- 
fore didst  thou  doubt  ?'  " 

After  this  Gavin's  voice   was  again  steady,  and  he  said. 


238  TPIE  LITTLE  IVIINISTER 

"The  sand-glass  is  almost  run  out.  Dearly  beloved,  with 
what  words  shall  I  bid  you  good-bye  ?" 

Many  thought  that  these  were  to  be  the  words,  for  the 
mist  parted,  and  they  saw  the  island  tremble  and  half  of 
it  sink. 

"My  people,"  said  the  voice  behind  the  mist,  "this  is  the 
text  I  leave  with  you :  'Lay  not  up  for  yourselves  treasures 
upon  earth,  where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt,,  and  where 
thieves  break  through  and  steal;  but  lay  up  for  your- 
selves treasures  in  heaven,  where  neither  moth  nor  rust 
doth  corrupt,  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor 
steal.'  That  text  I  read  in  the  flood,  where  the  hand  of 
God  has  written  it.  All  the  pound  notes  in  the  world  would 
not  dam  this  torrent  for  a  moment,  so  that  we  might  pass 
over  to  you  safely.  Yet  it  is  but  a  trickle  of  water,  soon 
to  be  dried  up.  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  only  a  few  hours 
ago  the  treasures  of  earth  stood  between  you  and  this  earl, 
and  what  are  they  now  compared  to  this  trickle  of  water? 
God  only  can  turn  rivers  into  a  wilderness,  and  the  water- 
springs  into  dry  ground.  Let  His  Word  be  a  lamp  unto 
your  feet  and  a  light  unto  your  path ;  may  He  be  your 
refuge  and  your  strength.    Amen." 

This  amen  he  said  quickly,  thinking  death  was  now  come. 
He  was  seen  to  raise  his  hands,  but  whether  to  Heaven  or 
involuntarily  to  protect  his  face  as  he  fell  none  was  sure, 
for  the  mist  again  filled  the  chasm.  Then  came  a  clap  of 
stillness.     No  one  breathed. 

But  the  two  men  were  not  yet  gone,  and  Gavin  spoke  once 
more. 

"Let  us  sing  in  the  twenty-third  Psalm." 

He  himself  raised  the  tune,  and  so  long  as  they  heard  his 
voice  they  sang : 

'The  Lord's  my  shepherd,  I'll  not  want; 

He  makes  me  down  to  lie 
In  pastures  green ;   He  leadeth  me 

The  quiet  waters  by. 

"My  soul  He  doth  restore  again ; 

And  me  to  walk  doth  make 
Within   the   paths   of   righteousness 

Ev'n  for  His  own  name's  sake. 

"Yea,  though  I  walk  in  Death's  dark  vale, 

Yet  will  I  fear  none  ill ; 
For  Thou  art  with  me ;  and  Thy  rnfJ 

And  staff  — " 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  239 

But  some  had  lost  the  power  to  sing  in  the  first  verse,  and 
others  at  "Death's  dark  vale,"  and  when  one  man  found 
himself  singing  alone  he  stopped  abruptly.  This  was  be- 
cause they  no  longer  heard  the  minister. 

"O  Lord!"  Peter  Tosh  cried,  "lift  the  mist,  for  it's  mair 
than  we  can  bear." 

The  mist  rose  slowly,  and  those  who  had  courage  to 
look  saw  Gavin  praying  with  the  earl.  Many  could  not 
look,  and  some  of  them  did  not  even  see  Rob  Dow  jump. 

For  it  was  Dow,  the  man  with  the  crushed  leg,  who  saved 
Gavin's  life,  and  flung  away  his  own  for  it.  Suddenly  he 
was  seen  on  the  edge  of  the  bank,  holding  one  end  of  the 
improvised  rope  in  his  hand.    As  Tosh  says : 

"It  all  happened  in  the  opening  and  shutting  o'  an  eye. 
It's  a  queer  thing  to  say,  but  though  I  prayed  to  God  to 
take  awa  the  mist,  when  He  did  raise  it  I  couldna  look.  I 
shut  my  een  tight,  and  held  my  arm  afore  my  face,  like  ane 
feared  o'  being  struck.  Even  when  I  daured  to  look,  mv 
arm  was  shaking  so  that  I  could  see  Rob  both  above  it 
and  below  it.  He  was  on  the  edge,  crouching  to  leap.  I 
didna  see  wha  had  baud  o'  the  other  end  o'  the  rope.  I 
heard  the  minister  cry,  'N'o,  Dow,  no  !*  and  it  gae  through 
me  as  quick  as  a  stab  that  if  Rob  jumped  he  would  knock 
them  both  into  the  water.  But  he  did  jump,  and  you  ken  how 
it  was  that  he  didna  knock  them  off." 

It  was  because  he  had  no  thought  of  saving  his  own  life. 
He  jumped,  not  at  the  island,  now  little  bigger  than  the  seat 
of  a  chair,  but  at  the  edge  of  it,  into  the  foam,  and  with  his 
arm  outstretched.  For  a  second  the  hand  holding  the  rope 
was  on  the  dot  of  land.  Gavin  tried  to  seize  the  hand; 
Rintoul  clutched  the  rope.  The  earl  and  the  minister  were 
dragged  together  into  safety,  and  both  left  the  water  sense- 
less. Gavin  was  never  again  able  to  lift  his  left  hand 
higher  than  his  head.  Dow's  body  was  found  next  day 
near  the  schoolhouse. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

TALK    OF    A    LITTLE    MAID    SINCE    GROWN    TALL. 

My  scholars  have  a  game  they  call  "The  Little  Minister," 
in  which  the  boys  allow  the  girls  as  a  treat  to  join.  Some 
of  the  characters  in  the   real   drama  are   omitted  as   of  no 


240  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

>^i— «i«^^^<— ^^^^— ^^— ^~^^— — — — — ^— — — ^-^— i^"— ^^i— * 

importance, — the  dominie,  for  instance, — and  the  two  best 
fighters  insist  on  being  Dow  and  Gavin.  I  notice  that  the 
game  is  finished  when  Dow  dives  from  a  haystack,  and 
Gavin  and  the  earl  are  dragged  to  the  top  of  it  by  a  rope. 
Though  there  should  be  another  scene,  it  is  only  a  marriage, 
which  the  girls  have,  therefore,  to  go  through  without  the 
help  of  the  boys.  This  warns  me  that  I  have  come  to  an 
end  of  my  story  for  all  except  my  little  maid.  In  the  days 
when  she  sat  on  my  knee  and  listened  it  had  no  end,  for 
after  I  told  her  how  her  father  and  mother  were  married  a 
second  time  she  would  say,  "And  then  I  came,  didn't  I .' 
Oh,  tell  me  about  me !"  So  it  happened  that  when  she  was 
no  higher  than  my  staff  she  knew  more  than  I  could  write 
in  another  book,  and  many  a  time  she  solemnly  told  me  what 
I  had  told  her,  as : 

"Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  a  story?  Well,  it's  about 
a  minister,  and  the  people  wanted  to  be  bad  to  him,  and 
then  there  was  a  flood,  and  a  flood  is  lochs  falling  instead 
of  rain,  and  so  of  course  he  was  nearly  drov/nded,  and  he 
preached  to  them  till  they  liked  him  again,  and  so  they  let 
him  marry  her,  and  they  like  her  awful,  too,  and,  just 
think !  it  was  my  father ;  and  that's  all.  Now  tell  me  about 
grandmother  when  father  came  home." 

I  told  her  once  again  that  Margaret  never  knew  how 
nearly  Gavin  was  driven  from  his  kirk.  For  Margaret 
was  as  one  who  goes  to  bed  in  the  daytime  and  wakes  in 
it,  and  is  not  told  that  there  has  been  a  black  night  while 
she  slept.  She  had  seen  her  son  leave  the  manse  the  idol 
of  his  people,  and  she  saw  them  rejoicing  as  they  brought 
him  back.  Of  what  occurred  at  the  Jaws,  as  the  spot  where 
Dow  had  saved  two  lives  is  now  called,  she  learned,  but 
not  that  these  Jaws  snatched  him  and  her  from  an  ignominy 
more  terrible  than  death,  for  she  never  knew  that  the  people 
had  meditated  driving  him  from  his  kirk.  This  Thrums 
is  bleak  and  perhaps  forbidding,  but  there  is  a  moment  of 
the  day  when  a  setting  sun  dyes  it  pink,  and  the  people 
are  like  their  town.  Thrums  was  never  colder  in  times 
of  snow  than  were  his  congregation  to  their  minister  when 
the  Great  Rain  began,  but  his  fortitude  rekindled  their  hearts. 
He  was  an  obstinate  minister,  and  love  had  led  him  a 
dance,  but  in  the  hour  of  trial  he  had  proved  himself  a  man. 

When  Gavin  reached  the  manse,  and  saw  not  only  his 
mother  but  Babbie,  he  would  have  kissed  them  both;  but 
Babbie  could  only  say,  "She  does  not  know,"  and  then  run 


THE  LITTLE  MINISTER  241 

away  crying.  Gavin  put  his  arm  round  his  mother,  and 
drew  her  into  the  parlour,  where  he  told  her  who  Babbie 
was.  Now  Margaret  had  begun  to  love  Babbie  already, 
and  had  prayed  to  see  Gavin  happily  married;  but  it  was 
a  long  time  before  she  went  up-stairs  to  look  for  his  wife 
and  kiss  her  and  bring  her  down.  "Why  was  it  a  long 
time?"  my  little  maid  would  ask,  and  I  had  to  tell  her  to 
wait  until  she  was  old,  and  had  a  son,  when  she  would  find 
out  for  herself. 

While  Gavin  and  the  earl  were  among  the  waters,  two 
men  were  on  their  way  to  Mr.  Carfrae's  home,  to  ask  him 
to  return  with  them  and  preach  the  Auld  Licht  kirk  of 
Thrums  vacant ;  and  he  came,  though  now  so  done  that 
he  had  to  be  wheeled  about  in  a  little  coach.  He  came  in 
sorrow,  yet  resolved  to  perform  what  was  asked  of  him 
if  it  seemed  God's  will ;  but,  instead  of  banishing  Gavin,  all 
he  had  to  do  was  to  remarry  him  and  kirk  him,  both  of 
which  things  he  did,  sitting  in  his  coach,  as  many  can  tell. 
Lang  Tammas  spoke  no  more  against  Gavin,  but  he  would 
not  go  to  the  marriage,  and  he  insisted  on  resigning  his 
eldership  for  a  year  and  a  day.  I  think  he  only  once  again 
spoke  to  Margaret.  She  was  in  the  manse  garden  when 
he  was  passing,  and  she  asked  him  if  he  would  tell  her 
now  why  he  had  been  so  agitated  when  he  visited  her  on 
the  day  of  the  flood.  He  answered,  gruffly,  "It's  no  busi- 
ness o'  yours."  Doctor  McQueen  was  Gavin's  best  man. 
He  died  long  ago  of  scarlet  fever.  So  severe  was  the 
epidemic  that  for  a  week  he  was  never  in  bed.  He  attended 
fifty  cases  without  suffering,  but  as  soon  as  he  had  bent 
over  Hendry  Munn's  youngest  boys,  who  both  had  it,  he 
said,  "I'm  smitted,"  and  went  home  to  die.  You  may  be 
sure  that  Gavin  proved  a  good  friend  to  Micah  Dow.  I  have 
the  piece  of  slate  on  which  Rob  proved  himself  a  good 
friend  to  Gavin ;  it  was  in  his  pocket  when  we  found  the 
body.  Lord  Rintoul  returned  to  his  English  estates,  and 
never  revisited  the  Spittal.  The  last  thing  I  heard  of  him 
was  that  he  had  been  offered  the  Lord-Lieutenantship  of  a 
county,  and  had  accepted  it  in  a  long  letter,  in  which  he 
began  by  pointing  out  his  unworthiness.  This  undid  him, 
for  the  Queen,  or  her  councillors,  thinking  from  his  first 
page  that  he  ITad  declined  the  honour,  read  no  further,  and 
appointed  another  man.  Waster  Lunny  is  still  alive,  but 
has  gone  to  another  farm.  Sanders  Webster,  in  his  gratitude, 
wanted  Nanny  to  become  Auld  Licht,  but  she  refused,  say- 


242  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

ing,  "Mr.  Dishart  is  worth  a  dozen  o'  Mr.  Duthie,  and  I'm 
terrible  fond  o'  Mrs.  Dishart,  but  Estabhshed  I  was  born 
and  Established  I'll  remain  till  I'm  carried  out  o'  this  house 
feet  foremost." 

"But  Nanny  went  to  heaven  for  all  that,"  my  little  maid 
told  me.  "Jean  says  people  can  go  to  heaven  though  they 
are  not  Auld  Lichts,  but  she  says  it  takes  them  all  their  time. 
Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  a  story  about  my  mother 
putting  glass  on  the  manse  dyke?  Well,  my  mother  and  my 
father  is  very  fond  of  each  other,  and  once  they  was  in  the 
garden,  and  my  father  kissed  my  mother,  and  there  was  a 
woman  watching  them  over  the  dyke,  and  she  cried  out — 
something  naughty." 

"It  was  Tibbie  Birse,"  I  said,  "and  what  she  cried  was, 
'Mercy  on  us,  that's  the  third  time  in  half  an  hour!'  So 
your  mother,  who  heard  her,  was  annoyed,  and  put  glass  on 
the  wall." 

"But  it's  me  that  is  telling  you  the  story.  You  are  sure 
you  don't  know  it?  Well,  they  asked  father  to  take  the  glass 
away,  and  he  wouldn't;  but  he  once  preached  at  mother  for 
having  a  white  feather  in  her  bonnet,  and  another  time  he 
preached  at  her  for  being  too  fond  of  him.  Jean  told  me. 
That's  all." 

'  No  one  seeing  Babbie  going  to  church  demurely  on  Gavin's 
arm  could  guess  her  history.  Sometimes  I  wonder  whether 
the  desire  to  be  a  gypsy  again  ever  comes  over  her  for  a 
mad  hour,  and  whether,  if  so,  Gavin  takes  such  measures  to 
cure  her  as  he  threatened  in  Caddam  Wood.  I  suppose  not ; 
but  here  is  another  story : 

"When  I  ask  mother  to  tell  me  about  her  once  being  a 
gypsy  she  says  I  am  a  bad  'quisitive  little  girl,  and  to  put 
on  my  hat  and  come  with  her  to  the  prayer-meeting;  and 
when  I  asked  father  to  let  me  see  mother's  gypsy  frock  he 
made  me  learn  Psalm  forty-eight  by  heart.  But  once  I  see'd 
it,  and  it  was  a  long  time  ago,  as  long  as  a  week  ago.  Micah 
Dow  gave  me  rowans  to  put  in  my  hair,  and  I  like  Micah 
because  he  calls  me  Miss,  and  so  I  woke  in  my  bed  because 
there  was  noises,  and  I  ran  down  to  the  parlour,  and  there 
was  my  mother  in  her  gypsy  frock,  and  my  rowans  was  in 
her  hair,  and  my  father  was  kissing  her,  and  when  they  saw 
me  they  jumped ;  and  that's  all." 

"Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  another  story?  It  is  about 
a  little  girl.  Well,  there  was  once  a  minister  and  his  wife, 
and  they  hadn't  no  little  girls,  but  just  little  boys,  and  God 


THE  "LITTLE  MINISTER  243 

was  sorry  for  them,  so  He  put  a  little  girl  in  a  cabbage  in 
the  garden,  and  when  they  found  her  they  were  glad.  Would 
you  like  me  to  tell  you  who  the  little  girl  was  ?  Well,  it  was 
me,  and,  ugh !  I  was  awful  cold  in  the  cabbage.  Do  you  like 
that  story  ?" 

"Yes;  I  like  it  best  of  all  the  stories  I  know." 

"So  do  I  like  it,  too.  Couldn't  nobody  help  loving  me, 
'cause  I'm  so  nice  ?     Why  am  I  so  fearful  nice  ?" 

"Because  you  are  like  your  grandmother." 

"It  was  clever  of  my  father  to  know  when  he  found  me 
in  the  cabbage  that  my  name  was  Margaret.  Are  you  sorry 
grandmother  is  dead?" 

"I  am  glad  your  mother  and  father  »vere  so  good  to  her 
and  made  her  so  happy." 

"Are  you  happy  ?" 

"Yes." 

"But  when  I  am  happy  I  laugh." 

"I  am  old,  you  see,  and  you  are  young." 

"I  am  nearly  six.  Did  you  love  grandmother?  Then  why 
did  you  never  come  to  see  her?  Did  grandmother  know 
you  was  here  ?  Why  not  ?  Why  didn't  I  not  know  about 
you  till  after  grandmother  died?" 

"I'll  tell  you  when  you  are  big." 

"Shall  I  be  big  enough  when  I  am  six?" 

"No,  not  till  your  eighteenth  birthday." 

"But  birthdays  come  so  slow.  Will  they  come  quicker 
when  I  am  big?" 

"Much  quicker." 

On  her  sixth  birthday  Micah  Dow  drove  my  little  maid 
to  the  schoolhouse  in  the  doctor's  gig,  and  she  crept  beneath 
the  table  and  whispered: 

"Grandfather !" 

"Father  told  me  to  call  you  that  if  I  liked,  and  I  like," 
she  said,  when  I  had  taken  her  upon  my  knee.  "I  know  why 
you  kissed  me  just  now.  It  was  because  I  looked  like  grand- 
mother.    Why  do  you  kiss  me  when  I  look  like  her?" 

"Who  told  you  I  did  that?" 

"Nobody  didn't  tell  me.  I  just  found  out.  I  loved  grand- 
mother, too.     She  told  me  all  the  stories  she  knew." 

"Did  she  ever  tell  you  a  story  about  a  black  dog?" 

"No.     Did  she  know  one?" 

"Yes,  she  knew  it." 

"Perhaps  she  had  forgotten  it?" 

"No,  she  remembered  it." 


244  THE  LITTLE  MINISTER 

"Tell  it  to  me." 

"Not  till  you  are  eighteen." 

"But  will  you  not  be  dead  when  I  am  eighteen?  When 
you  go  to  heaven,  will  you  see  grandmother?" 

"Yes." 

"Will  she  be  glad  to  see  you  ?" 

My  little  maid's  eighteenth  birthday  has  come,  and  I  am 
still  in  Thrums,  which  I  love,  though  it  is  beautiful  to  none, 
perhaps,  save  to  the  very  done,  who  lean  on  their  staves,  and 
look  long  at  it,  having  nothing  else  to  do  till  they  die.  I 
have  lived  to  rejoice  in  the  happiness  of  Gavin  and  Babbie; 
and  if  at  times  I  have  suddenly  had  to  turn  away  my  head 
after  looking  upon  them  in  their  home  surrounded  by  their 
children,  it  was  but  a  moment's  envy  that  I  could  not  l«elp. 
Margaret  never  knew  of  the  dominie  in  the  glen.  They 
wanted  to  tell  her  of  me,  but  I  would  not  have  it.  She  has 
been  long  gone  from  this  world ;  but  sweet  memories  of  her 
still  grow,  like  honeysuckle,  up  the  white  walls  of  the  manse, 
smiling  in  at  the  parlour  window  and  beckoning  from  the 
door,  and  for  some  filling  all  the  air  with  fragrance.  It  was 
not  she  who  raised  the  barrier  between  her  and  me,  but  God 
Himself;  and  to  those  who  maintain  otherwise,  I  say  they  do 
not  understand  the  purity  of  a  woman's  soul.  During  the 
years  she  was  lost  to  me  her  face  ever  came  between  me  and 
ungenerous  thoughts ;  and  now  I  can  say,  all  that  is  carnal 
in  me  is  my  own,  and  all  that  is  good  I  got  from  her.  Only 
one  bitterness  remains.  When  I  found  Gavin  in  the  rain, 
when  I  was  fighting  my  way  through  the  flood,  when  I  saw 
how  the  hearts  of  the  people  were  turned  against  him, — 
above  all,  when  I  found  Whamond  in  the  manse, — I  cried  to 
God,  making  promises  to  Him,  if  He  would  spare  the  lad 
for  Margaret's  sake,  and  He  spared  him;  but  these  promises 
I  have  not  kept. 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


m 


>yi 


■'■^-V 


-^E^- 


'^^^.€. 


y'^A'^- 


